Resistance: Brave
by It's All In Your Mind
Summary: Sequel to Resistance. Finnick and Annie are finally together. But how will their relationship hold up when put to the test by the Capitol, another Hunger Games, and other victors? Shows more of Finnick's dark side.
1. Morning After

**Hey, people! Okay, so, this is the sequel to Resistance. This is my first sequel because I've never finished a story before. So. Yeah. Sorry, I'm being really weird. The chapters are going to be all over the place length-wise – some will be really long, others will be sort of short. Anyway, please enjoy!**

**Morning After**

(FINNICK)

I don't want to wake up. I'm tired. And comfortable. And rather happy where I am. Waking up will mean facing reality. And right now, reality can kiss my pulchritudinous ass.

My eyes open. Long shadows play on the white roof of the train car. But when I turn my head to the right, I see something totally different: Annie's green eyes fixated on me. They're the only thing visible since the covers are pulled up to the middle of her nose.

Last night, we shared a bed for the third time – and _did_ nothing, for the third time. We barely slept; I spent most of the night trying to keep her talking in the hope that her voice wouldn't disappear. She told me quite a lot, but she kept directing the conversation back to me with questions like, _Where did I grow up? _South Waters. _What's my favorite color_? Black. _What is my favorite food_? Pickles. _Really_? Yes, really. _Ew._

"Hi," I say.

"Hi." Annie's voice is slightly muffled by the blankets.

"How did you sleep?" I ask.

Annie shrugs.

I toss off the covers and sit up, only to retreat back to the mattress from the cold. "It's freezing!" Annie starts laughing.

As I settle back in, Annie curls up close to me. I wrap my arms around her and very gently rub her back for a few moments before she asks, "Was that real last night?

"Was what real?" I ask.

"The whole lovey-dovey thing," Annie says quietly.

"Yes, it was real," I say slowly. Does she really not remember?

"Good." She sighs happily.

We're silent again for a while.

"Things are about to get really weird, aren't they?" she asks.

"Yeah."

I go back to my cart so we can both get dressed. I grab the only clothes I packed: jeans, an old shirt, and a leather jacket.

We'll be home soon. But what are we going to do when we get there? Go public? Are we even an item? And Annie – is her voice just going to disappear again? And how the hell are we supposed to break the news to her brother?

Since most of the wait-staff jumped ship when we got to the Capitol, there's no food this morning. So instead of eating breakfast, I set out in search of Annie. She's sitting in the lounging cart with her legs stretched out on the couch, slowly unraveling her scarf by pulling on a loose thread.

I walk over to the couch. Annie looks up at me briefly and smiles. I lift up her feet, sit on the edge of the couch, and set her legs down on my lap. "Are you excited to go home?" I ask. She shrugs, and I'm worried that her voice is gone once again.

Annie must sense my discomfort, because she says, "You meant what you said last night, about the whole cheating and crap-feeling thing didn't you?" I nod. "I don't really want to go back because after the whole lovey-thing, it was like we were in our own little world. I don't want to go back to reality."

Just then, the conductor's voice comes through the intercom. "We will be pulling into the station in five minutes."

Annie holds her hand up and angles it towards the speaker in the wall. "Reality."

"I love you," I say. "Also reality."

_I love you. _Those are the three strangest words I've ever heard coming out of my mouth. I don't think I'll ever get used to saying them.

Annie smiles. "I love you, too."

We stand right in front of the train doors, but we don't touch or speak. When the train doors open, there are several people there, not like when we first returned from the Games. Among those present are Mags, Broadsea, Britton, and Annie's blonde friend whose name escapes me.

I walk over to Mags and embrace her. "I did it," I say quietly.

Mags gives a strangely girlish squeal. "What did she say?"

"What did who say?" Broadsea asks.

As I speak to him, I continue to look at Mags. "Speak when spoken to, Broadsea." I address Mags again, saying, "The feeling is mutual."

Mags hugs me again as Broadsea sighs. "I am so lost," he says.

"So, how are you?" Britton asks his sister.

She shrugs. Isn't she going to say anything? Or is she just talking to _me_? Hmm . . .

I'm feeling strange. It's awkward to be around all these people with Annie so close. I don't know why, though. Then I remember what Snow said about public displays of affection.

So instead, I just give Annie a wide smile as her perky blond friend tackles her in a hug.

**Yeah, not a very good first chapter. Sorry about that! I promise, this story will be GOOD. All right. Thanks!**


	2. The Truth

**The next couple of chapters are kind of plot-less. Sorry about that. They'll be pretty fluffy though! The suspenseful/dramatic stuff will come when the next Games starts.**

**The Truth**

(ANNIE)

When I get home from the train station, Lysander is there. He begins to explain that the Capitol sent medication for me. Apparently, the doctors have cooked up a new pill regiment to make me "normal" again. Every morning, I'm expected to take eight pills of different sizes and shapes, followed by some weird pink drink that Lysander has concocted for me.

And here _I_ thought I was making progress.

I head into the living room and pick up the phone. I dial Finnick's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Finnick," I say. "It's Annie. Listen, do you want to come over for dinner tonight?"

"Sounds great," Finnick says enthusiastically.

"Cool," I say. "I'll see you in an hour or two, then?"

"Will do," he replies. Before I hang up the phone, he says, "It's good to hear you talking again." Then the line goes dead.

It feels weird to speak. But I guess it's like swimming; you never forget how to do it. I just wish I could get some words out around someone besides Finnick. Not that I haven't tried. I spent a whole half-hour opening and shut my mouth like an idiot as I tried to say "hi."

Deciding what to wear takes a lot longer than I anticipated. Do I dress formally? Casually? No, not casually. If Finnick – one of the most attractive men in the country – sees me in something like sweatpants, he'd run the other way. Eventually, I settle on a blue-and-white striped dress.

I cook some shrimp and pasta, put it in two bowls, and take it upstairs to my room. Then I try and clean up a bit.

When I hear a knock on the door, I rush downstairs as fast as I can. The door flies open and Finnick is there, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hi," I say quietly. "Thanks for coming over."

"You call, I come," says Finnick, entering the house. "I'm like a dog in that way." He smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"Come on." I drag him up to my room by the hand.

He chuckles as we enter. "Just like I remember it . . ." We sit down on my bed. Finnick pulls something out of his jacket's right pocket. "I brought you something," he says quietly. I scoot a bit closer to try and get a look, but whatever it is, it's completely covered by his fist. "It's nothing special," he says. "Don't get your hopes up or anything."

He opens his hand. In his palm sits another one of those rope safety bracelets. It's made of the same soft, thin rope as the other. It's different, though. This one is made out of blue-and-white rope and tied together in a completely different style.

"In my own defense, I have a lot of rope and even more spare time," Finnick says defensively.

I pick up the bracelet. "I love it," I say. "Thank you." I slip the bracelet onto my wrist and turn my head up to give Finnick a kiss on the cheek. But his face is angled down and we accidentally bump noses. "I'm sorry!" I say.

"No worries," Finnick says. He gives me a kiss on the nose. Then he picks up a glass of ice water and starts to drink.

Why is he so good at this? I mean, he's so attractive and good at being . . . you know!

"Are we a couple?" I ask quietly.

Finnick doesn't seem at all effected. "A couple?" he asks. "Like, I'm your boyfriend and you're my girlfriend type of think?"

That doesn't sound quite right. Finnick's definitely not my boyfriend and I'm definitely not his girlfriend. So, where does that leave us?

I look at Finnick. "That doesn't sound right," I say, voicing my thoughts.

"I'll tell you what," Finnick says. He puts the water down on my bedside table. "Instead of me being your boyfriend, I'll be your Finnick. And instead of you being my girlfriend, you can be my Annie." He picks up one of the pasta-and-shrimp plates. "How does that sound?"

"Complicated," I say. "I'm sorry I'm freaking out on you."

"You've earned freak-out rights." He lies back on my bed. "Britton must be happy you're talking again."

"I'm sure he would be if he knew."

"He doesn't know? Why doesn't he know?"

I shrug. "I tried to talk, but I just couldn't." I start picking at the plate of food. "Wow. This is terrible."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie to you, you're an awful cook," Finnick says. "Sorry."

I lie down next to him. "Way to be supportive, Finnick."

He that funny half-grin spreads on his face. "I'm sorry," he says. He leans in to kiss me.

"Okay, a couple of things," Britton says slowly. Finnick and I look up and he's standing in the doorway. "First" – he holds up one finger – "kissing on the bed is a no-go. Second" – he holds up a second finger – "are you two an item? Third and finally" – third finger – "did you just talk?"

"Number one, that's fine," Finnick says. "Number two, yes. Number three, I will allow your sister to answer."

I swallow. Finnick slips his hand into mine. I shut my eyes tight and manage to get out, "Hi."

Britton nods to himself a few times. "Okay," he says to himself. "Okay. Okay." He's still nodding as he walks away.

"I think that went well," Finnick says.

"He's in confusion," I say.

"Confusion?" asks Finnick. "Do you mean shock?"

"I do not." I sigh. "Is this what you meant about things getting weird?"

He thinks on this for a moment. "It depends on what your idea of what 'weird' is." He points at the pill bottles on my nightstand. "What's that?"

"The Capitol sent me meds," I say quietly. Finnick clenches his jaw. I don't understand what about that statement pisses him off, but it does. "What's the matter?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

I'm not convinced.


	3. Poetry

**Poetry**

(FINNICK)

There have only been a handful changes in the week since the Tour.

For starters, our mayor, Oceanus Ardis, has decided to build a few bridges to connect the different islands to one another. And since none of the fishing boats can go out this time of year, there's no shortage of workers to build them.

Annie talks again – mostly just to me. She speaks mostly when spoken to, and in as few words as possible. I can tell that it takes some effort to force words out, but she's definitely getting better at it. And quickly, too.

Today, I'm in the pool on Sandstorm. I'm playing water polo with a few friends – Lysander, Broadsea, a handful of trainers that work on Sandstorm, and Wrather's grandson Dodge.

Dodge is about sixteen years old. Like almost everyone else in the district, he's got brown hair and green eyes. And he addresses almost everyone as "hoss." He's also what we call a Likely – meaning he'll probably go into the Games, and he'll probably win if he does. But besides that, he's a pain in the ass.

You may be wondering why there's a pool on Sandstorm. Well, when it's too cold to use the ocean, ponds, rivers, or numerous other swimming holes throughout 4, the kids have to learn somewhere. And building it wasn't a big deal, since 1 and 2 have pools of their own.

"Pass it, hoss!" Dodge shouts as Broadsea. "I'm open!"

One of the trainers dives under the water and pulls Broadsea down by the foot. This happens just as Broadsea's about to toss the ball, and the thing goes flying into the stands. A shouting match between Broadsea and one of the trainers ensues.

I hook my arm on the pool's edge as Dodge slowly makes his way over to me.

"How's it going, hoss?" he asks.

"Just fine, Dodge," I say.

He nods towards the door. "Looks like you got company."

Annie is making her way over to the pool. The polo ball's tucked under her arm.

"Annie!" I say. I jump out of the pool and make my way over to her. "Hi," I say. I give her a quick kiss on the lips.

"You're shirtless _and_ kissing me?" Annie says. "Risky business . . ."

I laugh. "What are you doing here?" I brush back a strand of brown hair that has begun to stray into her eyes.

"You forgot?" she asks.

"Forgot what?"

"Our lunch date," she says. "I was promised fish and chips . . ."

I curse. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Give me one second, then we can go. You aren't mad, are you?"

"No," she says. "But your cats are feeling rather neglected."

"You don't have to leave, hoss," says Dodge. He nods at Annie. "Hey, Cresta."

"Hi, Dodge," Annie forces out. "We were in school together," she explains to me.

"You can play with us, if you like," he says.

Broadsea's head bobs up by the pool's edge. "I don't know. You could get hurt." He looks straight at me, smiles, and cocks his head to the side. "Finnick likes it rough."

I snatch the ball out of Annie's hand and hurl it at Broadsea's head. He ducks under the water before the ball hits its mark. I think he gets the hint because he swims over to one of the trainers and resumes his shouting match.

Usually, I don't mind comments like that. But innuendos and jokes of a sexual nature are absolutely off limits around Annie. Annie and the Capitol are two completely different parts of my life. And I have no wish to link one with the other. That's why I haven't told her about the poison, or Alecta, or Snow, or anything like that – she doesn't even know that the rebellion exists. It's for her own good. At least, _I_ think it is.

Broadsea knows this. He's just _choosing_ to be a jackass.

"I'll be right back." I duck into the men's locker room and change as quickly as I can. I come back out to find Annie squatting by the side of the pool; she's cheering on Dodge as he plays. "Ready?" I call. Annie waves to the group and trots over to me. "So, how late am I?" I ask, wrapping my arm around her.

"Almost two hours," she says.

She falls silent as when enter the Hall of Tributes, which bears pictures, names, and life and death dates of every tribute ever reaped to participate in the Hunger Games. At the very end of the hall, there is a special wall with names and headshots of every victor.

Once we're through, the conversation picks back up. "I really am sorry," I say.

"It's all right," she says. "But if you'd like to make it up to me, I wouldn't mind."

We make our way across the half-finished bridges to Victor's Isle, and then head to my house from there. Annie stays in my room while I disappear into the bathroom for a quick shower. "You'll have to speak up if you want me to hear you," I tell her.

"I love your room!" Annie calls.

"You've been in my room before," I say. I turn on the shower, shed my clothes, and climb in.

"Yeah, _once_!" she says. "Your bed is _giant_! You could fit ten you-sized people on this thing."

There's an explanation for that. It's actually Snow's idea of a private joke. After he started selling me, he sent it to me. The card said I might need the extra space. Mags let me in on the whole let's-overthrow-the-Capitol-group later that day.

When I get out, I just wrap pull on my jeans and go back into my room. My cats, Barnabas and Tulie, are glaring at me from the bed.

Annie is sitting on the floor, picking through one of the many piles of books throughout the room. She holds up a worn-out, leather-bound book – a book of poetry. "You didn't tell me you liked poetry," she says accusingly. "And you are not in a shirt. This is the second time today, Finnick."

I sit next to her on the floor. "I didn't realize it made you uncomfortable." I strike the most seductive pose I can think of.

Annie raises an eyebrow. "I am not amused," she says playfully. "Do you _write_ any poetry?" I shrug. "Write me something," she says.

"Right now?" I ask.

"Right now," she says, lying back on the floor

I inhale sharply and lay down beside her. "_The sea is green, the sky is blue, Annie is cute, and I'm sexy too_."

Annie giggles. "That was very pretty."

"What can I say; I'm a man of many talents." I lean in to kiss her, but she slaps her hand over my mouth.

"You promised me lunch, remember?"


	4. Roses

**I won't be posting very often in the next week or two because school is a bitch. An evil, evil bitch. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading.**

**Roses**

(ANNIE)

Finnick lies back on the grass, folds his arms behind his head, and shuts his eyes. He's as happy to have spring as I am. "Daisies," he says.

"Yes." I bite a hole in the stem of a dandelion and string another one through.

Finnick exhales loudly. "Is there any flower you _don't_ like?"

"Roses," I say. "I absolutely hate roses."

Finnick opens one of his ocean-colored eyes. "I don't believe you."

I tie up the ends on my dandelion chain and set it on Finnick's head like a crown. "You don't believe me?"

He grabs me by my upper arms and rolls us onto the ground, him hovering over me. "Not for one second."

"I don't believe pickles are your favorite food." I straighten the dandelion crown on his head. Some of the seeds fall off and land in various spots in his hair.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he asks. I shake my head. "I thought not."

I sigh. "It's so nice outside. Don't you think?"

Finnick rolls off and lies beside me. "I wish it was warm enough to swim."

"It will be in August," I say. "After the Gam –" I cut myself off.

Finnick and I have not yet discussed the G-word. I know that he'll go back and be a mentor. I know that he's being a mentor so I won't have to. I also know that he will have to do things. Cheat on me. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can't even be jealous because it's not his fault.

He takes off the dandelion-chain and begins to fiddle with it. "This is a beautiful flower crown," he says softly.

"Thanks," I say. "My cousin taught me how to make them when we were little."

"Really?" Finnick says. He fiddles around in his pocket and pulls out another rope safety bracelet. "My stepdad taught me how to make these when _I_ was little." He slips it onto my wrist.

"I've got more of these than I can count." I give him a kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Come on. We should get to Mags's or we'll never hear the end of it." He helps me to my feet and we walk through the woods of Victor's Isle back to the residential area. He doesn't hold my hand or anything; he walks a few paces behind me like he's herding me. Every time I turn around, he waves me forward and tells me to keep going.

Mags has taken to holding victor dinners at her house every other week since the Victory Tour a few months back. I don't mind it, as long as Broadsea and Finnick play nice. They try to be civil for Mags's sake, but it takes quite a bit of effort.

As we climb the steps to Mags's porch, Finnick puts his hand on the small of my back and steers me in to the kitchen without knocking.

"Hey, Mags," Finnick says. He walks across the room to where Mags is cutting veggies and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Let me do this." He shoves her hands out of the way and starts chopping at those vegetables.

I take a deep breath and concentrate very hard on forming words. "Hi, Mags."

"Hello, sweetheart," she says. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," I say. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Finnick looks over his shoulder and smiles at me encouragingly. He's really nice about helping me talk.

Broadsea comes into the kitchen with a tablecloth in his arms. "Mags, I got the" – he starts laughing hysterically when he sees Finnick's dandelion-crown. "Nice hat, man."

"I made it for him," I say defensively.

"If you'd like one, I'm sure Annie would be more than happy to pick a few flowers and make you your own," Finnick says.

"Maybe I could wear her lipstick, too," he mumbles.

We sit down to eat on Mags's porch. Finnick is seated next to me. He wraps his arm around my waist while we eat, and Mags smiles whenever she looks up at us. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable.

See, I don't like much attention. I never have. I like to be left alone. And when I am, I'm happy. I'm sure I'll be ignored by most of the country – and Finnick – when the Games roll around once more. And while I'm thrilled to be forgotten by Panem, I'm not looking forward to the Finnick part of it.

When he thinks no one's looking, Finnick gives me a kiss on the cheek. But Broadsea sees. He makes a theatrical gagging noise. "Ugh. I'm eating."

"We're _all_ eating, Broadsea," Wrather says. He very obviously stares at the mountain of food heaped on Broadsea's plate. "Some of us more than others."

In the past few months, I've learned how sweet and affectionate Finnick truly is. He's always making me those safety bracelets and bringing me flowers every chance he gets. If we're eating with Britton and we're sitting next to each other, he'll hold my hand under the table. And he's always kissing me and holding my hand. It's a side of him that disappears around everyone but me.

When dinner is over, Finnick takes me by the hand and walks me home.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I ask.

Finnick shakes his head. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"Mind if I ask why not?" I sit down on the porch swing and pat the space beside me.

He sits down. "It's my parents' anniversary. I have to go see my father."

"Oh," I say.

I remember how Finnick gave me a quick explanation of his family situation. He said he and his stepfather weren't on speaking terms because of what Finnick did. But he still goes to check in on him on important days – like the anniversary or birthdays.

"I have to go," says Finnick.

Before I can even say goodbye, Finnick kisses me on the cheek and disappears.

I hate it when he does that.


	5. Daddy Issues

**This chapter has Finnick's dad in it and it talks a lot about his family. Kind of awful. I swear, the chapters will get good as soon as the reaping comes, which will be in a chapter or two. Hopefully you'll enjoy this anyway . . .**

**Daddy Issues**

(FINNICK)

_I pound my fist against the wooden boards over and over but nothing happens. The boat is sinking, filling with water. Through the cracks between boards, I can see my mother and brothers struggling to keep their heads above the water as the boat slowly submerges._

_My hands are bleeding and stinging, but I manage to pry up one of the wooden planks. The hole is just big enough for my youngest brother, Hessick, to fit through. My mother pushes him through. I hook my arm around his waist and work the hole until it's big enough for my other brother, Roderick, to fit through. He's still conscious._

_The water is turning red from my blood. One look at my hands, and I see why: I'm all cut-up, with a few huge splinters sticking out of my palms._

_I swim them up to the surface and set their unconscious bodies on the docks. Hessick isn't breathing, but Roderick is coughing up water. "Wake Hessick up!" I shout at him._

_I dive back into the water and swim down to the still-sinking boat. I shout for my mother, but dozens of bubbles come out of my mouth instead of my voice. I kick away more of the planks until I can squeeze myself through the hole._

_My head is pounding. I'm running out of air. As I wedge myself through the hole, I know that my mother was facing a similar situation – several minutes ago. Her blue-green eyes – the exact same color as mine – are wide open. There's a strange filmy layer over them. I've seen it before on bodies that have drowned._

_Still, I drag her out and back to the surface. I set her down next to my brothers, neither of whom are moving. I'm about to try and wake my mother when I see it. Identical red circles are between my brothers' eyes. They've been shot. Their eyes – blue-green, just like mine, just like my mother's – are wide open._

_They're dead. All three of them are dead._

I wake up screaming. The cats stir slightly on the pillow beside mine, but don't wake up. I'm covered in cold sweat and my hands are shaking. I can't quite breathe. My rib cage is constricting my lungs. I try to concentrate on taking a breath, but I just can't.

It's noon outside at the very least. I take a shower and pull on the first clothes I come across. Then I take a long, circuitous route across the new bridges to South Waters. From there, I slowly make my way to my stepfather's house.

He's sitting in the dark in his living room, clutching a bottle of liquor to his chest. "I figured you'd be showing up sooner or later," he says.

Dad doesn't look like most of the other people in District 4. Most people have brown hair and green as. Dad's got blond hair and blue eyes. He's stocky, too, with pearly white teeth that he never shows in a smile.

"I am pretty predictable, aren't I, Dad?" I sit on the coffee table in front of him.

"I'm not your dad," he says. "Don't call me that."

"What would you like me to call you, then?" I ask. "Gaius? Mr. Odair? Sir?"

Dad takes a big sip from his bottle. "Your real dad was the biggest ass I've ever met – next to you, of course. He left on one of the fishing boats right after he found out you were on the way. Never came back." He looks up at me. "You look exactly like him. The hair, the face, the –"

"The eyes are Mom's," I say . "It's your anniversary. That's –"

"Your mother gave her eyes to all three of you," he says. _Three of you_, meaning me and my half-brothers. "I hear you've got yourself a girlfriend." Dad stands up to get himself a new bottle of vodka. "That mad girl, right?"

"She's not mad," I mumble.

"Yes she is," says Dad. He sits down again and hands me a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah," I say.

Dad smiles. "Then let's hope you don't get her killed."

"Screw you," I say. I stand up and make for the door. "You know, I get that you hate me. I got your family killed, and I'm not even related to you by blood. I'm sorry about that. But at least I'm trying to make things right. You're just being a dick about it. It's been four years. Stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

Dad's nostrils flare in anger and he charges at me. It's pathetic how quickly I not only dodge him, but pin him on the ground with one arm up in the air. I can't help myself. I snap his arm like a twig, let him go, and flee out the front door.

_"Dad!" I call. I push my way through the crowd of people that have come to the funeral. "Dad, wait!" He's disappearing into the woods._

_"Finnick –" Mags reaches out for me, but I shrug her off._

_"Dad!" I say. I manage to catch up to him. "I haven't seen you in days."_

_He glares at me. "Get out of my way, Finnick."_

_"Dad –"_

_He presses his forearm against my throat and pins me against a tree. I could kill him so quickly it's not even funny. But he's my dad. So I don't fight him. "This is your fault." He releases me and takes a big sip of liquor from a half-empty bottle. "Next time I see you, I will kill you myself."_

_Mags appears out of nowhere. She grabs me by the upper arm and literally throws me back towards the funeral. She's such a nice, even-tempered woman; it's easy to forget that she's a victor. And she's surprisingly strong._

_I hang back on the edge of the trees. I can't hear what she's saying to Dad, but her tone is angry. Dad shouts back at her. The things he says are awful. His voice goes back to a whisper and I can't hear most of what he's saying._

_At a certain point, though, I hear my name and that sends Mags straight over the edge. She grabs his vodka bottle and tosses it against a tree. She wraps her right hand around Dad's throat. I can hear what she's saying now._

_"You _ever_ bother that boy again and _I _will kill _you_." She lets him down. Dad falls to his knees coughing. "Got it?"_


	6. Last Night

**The gory/suspenseful chapters are one their way people! And they will blow your mind.**

**Last Night**

(ANNIE)

The reaping is tomorrow. Finnick invited me to stay at his place tonight. Britton didn't object; he knows this is important to me. So, I pack a bag with pajamas, toiletries, and my reaping dress for tomorrow. And I head over at around sunset.

I try knock on the door, but it flies right open. I remember that Finnick doesn't lock it because he doesn't think anyone's stupid enough to try and trespass on his property. "Finnick?" I call. "Fin-nick?"

"I'm in my room!" he calls. I go upstairs to find Finnick seated on his bed. "Hi," he says. "I've got quite an evening planned for us."

"We're doing something special?" I can't help but smile.

"Yes, we are," says Finnick. He takes my bag from me and tosses it onto his poorly-made bed. "And it's a long way away, so we should get going." He grabs me by the hand.

We walk across the freshly-finished bridge to South Waters. From there, we wander through the woods for a little while. Then Finnick leads me over a fallen tree that acts like a bridge, hovering above a small creek. I stumble a few times, but Finnick just tells me to relax and keep focused.

When I get off the log, Finnick tells me to shut my eyes.

"I'm not a big fan of the dark," I say quietly.

"I know," he says. "But don't worry." He stands behind me and puts his hands over my eyes. "I'm not going to steer you into a tree." We walk and walk until I think we're lost. "We're here." Finnick uncovers my eyes.

We're standing in a little clearing. There's a big checkered blanket spread in the center of it, with two big picnic baskets on it. And there are candles all over. And you can see the stars – and the moon. I can hear the creek running somewhere far-off.

"You did this?" I whisper.

"Not exactly," Finnick says. "It would've taken a while to grow the trees, and I don't know how to make candles. I didn't weave the baskets, nor did I make the blanket. The grass grows on its own accord, and the sky . . . well, I'm just lucky, I suppose."

I look right into his eyes – his beautiful blue-green eyes. His tone is light enough, but he looks nervous. "You're just a pathetic, sensitive, sweet, hopeless romantic, aren't you?" I say.

"Yes." Finnick wraps his arms around my waist. "I'm also handsome" – he kisses my cheek – "and charming" – my other cheek – "and talented" – my forehead – "and incredibly narcissistic." He gives me a quick kiss on the lips and sits down with me on the blanket.

"Why are you so nice to me all the time?" I ask.

Finnick pours two glasses of wine and hands me one. "I'm a tool. And because of that, I don't have a lot of friends." He sighs. "I guess I just like having somebody around that I can be sweet to." He unpacks the baskets, pulling out all sorts of foods.

There are all sorts of things. There's a big bottle of wine, two rolls of bread, a small round cake, some breaded fish, and yes, cheese. Cheese is a big deal because it's such a rare thing here. It's rarely found in any district besides 10, and it's almost unheard of in 4.

"Did you make all this?" I ask.

"No," says Finnick. "Mags helped with the bread and cake, and I had to call in a lot of favors for that cheese. So even if you don't like it, you have to at least pretend to."

I smile. "You need to stop doing all of this. At this rate, I won't be able to repay you."

"That's okay," he says. He doesn't say anything else, but I know he's thinking, _This is an I'm-sorry-for-cheating-on-you-in-the-near-future-dinner._

When we're done, I lie down on the blanket to look up at the stars. Finnick lets me put my head in his lap. He leans back on his hands and points out different constellations. We sit there for hours. Until the candles burn down to their bases.

"You tired yet?" Finnick asks.

"I'm getting there," I say. "Why? Do you want to go?"

"Yeah."

So, we pack up the baskets with plates and fold the blankets. I decide to leave what's left of the candles behind. The journey back to the residential area is a lot faster than the way to the clearing. We don't walk over that fallen tree. Instead, Finnick finds us a way around the creek.

I go upstairs to take a shower once we reach the house. Finnick's bathroom – like the rest of his house – is incredible. His massive free-standing bathtub is more like a hot tub. And his shower could comfortably fit ten full-grown women.

I wonder if his shower at the Training Center is the same size.

It's warmed up outside, but Finnick has set a fire in the fireplace. I sit down on the couch beside him and watch the flames for a little while.

"I made you another one," Finnick says. He holds out his hand. There's another safety bracelet in his palm.

"Thanks," I say. I put it on my wrist next to two others. "What is this – the eighth one you've given me?"

"I think it's more than that," Finnick whispers. "We have to be in the double-digits by now." I look up at him and he kisses me very, very lightly. "Tired yet?" I nod. Instead of letting me walk, Finnick carries me up to his room.

His gargantuan mattress is a lot harder than I'm used to; it's difficult to get comfortable. When Finnick lies down, I rest my head on his chest. It's far more comfortable than the pillows.

I feel funny. Homesick. But not the way you'd think. I don't want to be in _my_ house or _my_ bed. I just want to stay with Finnick. And somehow, that emotion is closest to homesickness.

To be perfectly honest, I haven't given any real though to the Games. Those pills have done a good job of blocking it out of my mind. But with the reaping only a few short hours away, it's become reality. I can't stop thinking about it.

Two kids – probably people that I know – are going to die. They don't have a choice. Finnick is going to sleep with almost anything in sight. He won't have a choice. But what if he just forgets all about me? What if he prefers one of the Capitol women to me?

"I love you," Finnick says.

"I love you too."

He falls asleep in a few short seconds, but I'm wide awake for hours.


	7. The Reaping

**The Reaping**

(ANNIE)

_I don't know where I am._

_It's dark. And I'm not alone. Through the darkness, I can see what I think is President Snow. He's holding something. And besides him, there are at least seven other people. I can see those people now. They're all females. And they're not exactly human. Their eyes are the size of their fists. And besides that, they just look like animals. It's . . . scary._

_"I have a present," Snow says to the people. He holds up the thing in his hand and it's a head – Finnick's head. _

_Finnick's striking eyes are wide open. His mouth is, too – like he was screaming and silenced in the middle of it._

_"Finnick!" I shout. I try to stand up, but I can't move._

_Snow tosses the head towards the seven other people. They each try and grab it, but none of them can get a firm hold on it. They fight over it for quite a while._

_"Hello, Annie." Snow is right in front of me. "It's nice to see you again." He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes._

I wake up in Finnick's room.

The sun is rising outside. The reaping is today. My neck is stiff, but other than that, I'm comfortable. My head is still resting on Finnick's chest. He's awake, but staying as still as possible – probably trying not to wake me up.

I turn my head so that I'm looking at him with my chin on his chest. "Good morning." I've never been so happy to see him before. His head is definitely connected to his body. Then I guess it was just a dream. Nightmare. Whatever.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Why do you ask?"

He pushes back my hair. "You were crying in your sleep."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly.

"Why are you sorry?" he says. I shrug. "Well, don't be." I rest my head over his heart, still facing him. "Was it a nightmare?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Was it bad?" he asks quietly.

Again, I nod. "Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Well, if you want to, you can."

I smile. "Thanks."

The rest of the morning passes quickly. We don't talk much. Finnick cooks breakfast, but I don't eat any. We each get changed. Finnick is in a velvet suit. He looks really nice. On our way over to Mainland, we don't touch.

Since I'm a victor, I stand in a special roped-off area with Finnick, Broadsea, Mags, and Wrather. Britton is still eligible, so he stands in the male-section near Dodge. Calliope and Io hold hands in the female-section, terrified.

After her fight with Finnick, Brae requested a transfer to a new district. Now she's escorting for 5, and we get their escort. Her name is Dysis. She's gotten obvious surgery. Her eyes are giant, copper-colored things with cat pupils. She's also got fangs like a cat. And claws. And cat ears. And I'm fairly certain that's a tail swirling around behind her.

She draws a name from the girl's pool. "Pearl Payne." I don't know her. And I'm glad. Then it's the boys. "Dodge Marsall."

Dodge. I went to school with Dodge. I went through training with him. He's Wrather's grandson. Oh my gosh – Wrather! I look over at him and he seems unfazed. He knew this was coming. He won the 3rd Games and he's the first victor from this district. He _had_ to know this was coming. I'm just surprised his daughter was never reaped.

Dodge doesn't seem worried, either.

The pair is taken into the Justice Building to say farewell to their loved ones. Finnick attempts to be subtle as he leads me away from the cameras. We wander through the Justice Building for a little while, careful not to touch.

"Are you and Mags going to be okay while I'm gone?" he asks.

"I'll take care of Mags, Mags will take care of me," I say. "We'll be fine."

Finnick grabs me by the wrist and leans me against one of the marble pillars. Then he kisses me. It's rougher than I'm used to, but I don't really mind. And it goes on for a while. Finnick comes up for air eventually. He presses his forehead against mine.

"Are you sure?" he asks playfully.

"I'm fairly certain," I say. I lean in for another kiss, but he pulls back slightly and looks at something off to the side.

Lysander is standing in the corner. He gestures for Finnick to come with his head.

"I have to go," Finnick says. "I'll be back before you know it." He leans in to kiss me – on the lips, I think – but he just gives me a peck on the forehead and goes off to Lysander.

I watch as Lysander hands him a small wooden box, which Finnick slips into the pocket inside his jacket. The two tributes come out of their rooms and Finnick leads them out of the Justice Building. I follow at a safe distance.

Broadsea finds me at the train station, just as the party is boarding. Finnick kisses Mags goodbye and hops on the train. He gives a single wave and a smile in my direction. Then the train pulls out of the station. And disappears from view.

Broadsea leans towards me and asks, "You want to get drunk?"

I inhale sharply. "Yes."


	8. History Repeating

**Personally, I think this is a good chapter . . .**

**History Repeating**

(FINNICK)

In a matter of seconds, District 4 has disappeared behind a wall of trees. Mags and Annie are still there. And Broadsea. Ugh. Broadsea. I don't even want to think about him right now.

I lock myself in my room and pull out the box Lysander gave me. Snow's poison is inside, as well as three vials of the antidote. Why the poison? I want to build up an immunity to it. What happened on the victory tour will never happen again. Ever.

I wrap the box up in a jacket and wedge it in my suitcase. Then I pull on a good shirt and go into the dining cart. Dysis and the tributes are already seated at the table.

"Hi, Boss," says Dodge.

"Boss?" I ask. "You're calling me 'Boss' now?" I shake my head. "No. Veto. I veto that." I turn to the female. "You're Pearl, right?"

She swallows. "Yes, sir."

"Call me Finnick," I say.

Pearl is weak. I can tell right off the bat. Maybe she has some sort of talent, something that will help her live longer. But I'm not going to choose her. Dodge may be a monumental tool, but he can fight. He's a Likely. So I'm going to try and bring him home. Besides, I owe it to Wrather.

I don't sleep. All I can think about is Annie. Annie and the Capitol. What will she be thinking while I'm gone? Will she stop speaking again? What if she relapses? Is she going to be okay? Of course she will. She's Annie. She can handle almost anything . . .

We pull into the train station at around noon. We are swarmed by cameras as we step off. Dysis soaks up the attention like a sponge. At least she didn't try to grab my butt like Brae did the first year I mentored. Still, I don't get a good vibe from her. Maybe it's the cat-eyes.

Over the course of the next few days, I am thrown into Capitol life.

The Observation Room has been changed. The one-way mirror has been replaced with a soundproof wall. We aren't allowed in the Room until the Games begin.

Snow has changed the rules of my purchase. One per customer now. All my old patrons are allowed one final farewell "visit" and then, never again. And business is lucrative lately. Almost every female in the Capitol is trying to join in on the fun.

Great, right?

As it turns out, Cheating on Annie is worse than I thought it would be. There's always that guilt, that nagging voice in the back of my mind. And there's nothing I can do to shut it up.

Johanna and I spend most of our free time together. She asks a lot of questions about Annie, but doesn't seem satisfied with any of the answers that I give. Also, we've started putting tiny amounts of the poison in our beverages. It hurts to drink, but we're getting better at it.

I've been introduced to Plutarch. He's one of the guys I saw when Ezra died. He's a Gamemaker. And apparently, he's the one who decided to start the earthquake last year. I don't know if I should thank him, or punch him in the face.

Dodge calls me Boss. I've already got a few sponsors lined up for him. Pearl, on the other hand . . . She's screwed. I can only hope her death is quick and painless. I don't want a repeat of what happened with Asper last year. And she's not in the Careers; they'd eat her alive.

Right now, I'm getting ready for the pre-Games interviews. At the request of my head stylist, Arita, I've begun to grow stubble. She advises against a full beard, but "stubble is hot. Stubble is . . . very hot. Very, very hot."

That's a little weird.

I sigh heavily as one of the prep team files down my nails. "I hate having my nails done."

"Why?" Arita asks.

"Are you serious?" I say. I raise my eyebrow.

I sit between Johanna and Reselda, a morphling addict from 6.

The pair from 1 are named Golden and Sky. Neither one is particularly attractive. 2's tributes are Pluto and Nyx. Cousins. How unfortunate. After Pearl's interview, I have hope that she might end up with a few pity-sponsors.

Then there's Dodge. He calls Caesar "hoss." I slump down in my seat for his interview. I doze off for most of the other interviews. I'm conscious for 12's, though. I don't know their names, but I do know that they've got no chance of winning.

After the interviews, it's time to say goodbye to my tributes.

I give Pearl a hug. "Just stay calm. Try and avoid the others as much as possible. Hide out, maybe get yourself an ally."

"Like Annie did?" asks Pearl.

I'm not sure what to say to that, so I just pat her shoulder and move on to Dodge. "Dodge."

"Boss," he says. "What words of wisdom do you have to offer me?"

"Don't do anything stupid." I pat his head twice. "All right. You two, try and get some rest. I'll see you when I see you."

Then, I grab the poison box and it's down to the main training room. Johanna is waiting for me there with two tumblers and a huge bottle of hard liquor.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

I flip open the lid. "Are _you_?"

She pours us each a glass. I drop two pinches of powder into each. We each pick one up. "Bottoms up," she says.

We kick back the liquor. It hurts – really hurts. You can't even imagine it. It's like there's liquid fire running down your throat. I arch my back and start coughing uncontrollably as my body tries to rid itself of the poison.

Even after the burning stops, it's hard to breathe.

"Well," Johanna says. She sits on the floor. I sit beside her and lean my head on the wall. "What should we do now?"

I shrug. "What would you like to do?" My hand very stupidly runs its fingers through her hair.

"I've got a few ideas," she whispers.

When something's right, it's right. And now, something is right.

Johanna is . . . kissing me? Yep. I'm definitely kissing Johanna. Fingers are knotted in hair. Arms are wrapped around next. Tongues are in foreign mouths. I'm not sure if she's the one unbuttoning my shirt, or if it's me. Shirt's on the floor now. Still kissing. This is bad. This is really, really bad. But neither of us is stopping it. Why?

We've been here before. And as they say, history is bound to repeat itself.

I don't really know what's happening. But I do know where this is going. And I know that I'm _definitely_ going to regret this in the morning.


	9. Fidelity

**For those of you who're curious, there's more Johanna/Finnick coming up, but not for a few chapters.**

**Fidelity**

(ANNIE)

I press my lips to the rim of the green bottle and take a sip, only to spit it back out on the sand. "That's disgusting!" I say.

Broadsea laughs. "That is beer, Sweet Annie."

"It tastes like medicine," I say. I shove the bottle towards him. "Get me a scotch or something. Something that doesn't taste so bad."

He snorts. "_Some_ people would've said scotch was bad and beer was good." He hands me a scotch bottle. "But I guess you're not some people."

Broadsea and I have been hanging out in the past few days. He's actually not the worst guy in the world. Granted, he is an alcoholic and occasionally pops pills . . . Still, I think he's glad to have a friend. And he's started calling me "Sweet Annie." I guess it's a nickname.

We drink in silence for a while.

"What do you think Finnick's up to?" I ask.

Broadsea turns his head towards me. He gives me that _you-don't-want-to-know _look. "I'm sure he's wondering the exact same thing about you."

The Games officially start tomorrow. I don't really think I'll watch them. And the interviews were over an hour ago. The only other thing that'll be on tonight is Claudius Templesmith's analysis of the arena. It's always very boring.

I lay down on the sand and look up at the stars – at the cancer constellation. "Why do you hate Finnick so much, anyway?"

Broadsea sighs and lies down beside me. He scratches that red scar on his cheek. "It's a long, depressing story that you'll probably feel weird about hearing." He shakes his head.

"Please?" I stick out my lower lip and bat my eyes.

"You remember the girl Finnick went into the arena with?" Broadsea asks.

I remember that she was frightening. And sixteen. She, like Finnick, was a Likely. Since she was sixteen, it was her year to go in. Finnick wasn't meant to for another two years. But he did. And he stole all of her sponsors. Mags chose to keep _him_ alive. They fought the entire Games – she even stabbed Finnick at one point. They were the last two left. And Finnick killed her.

"Yes," I say. "Her name was Xandria, right?"

"Yeah," Broadsea says quietly. He looks up at the stars.

Then I think I get it. "Did you love her?" I ask.

"Yeah," Broadsea says again.

"Oh. I'm sorry." I push the bottle of scotch towards him.

"Thanks." He takes a small sip of scotch and then finishes off the last of the beer. "Now what do you want to do?"

"I have no idea," I say.

Broadsea proceeds to kiss me. It's an average kiss. Not great, but good. I don't totally hate it. But I know that I definitely shouldn't like it. Should not. It takes me a second to respond, and when I do, it's not violent. I just sit up.

"What?" asks Broadsea.

"I'm not comfortable making out with somebody else just because Finnick's not around," I say. Isn't that sort of obvious?

Broadsea walks his middle and forefingers up my arm like legs. "Well, I've got a pretty good idea of what he's up to. And if I'm right about what's going on in the Capitol, then I can safely assume that you are entitled to do whatever the hell you want to in his absence."

"Is the concept of fidelity really that hard for you to grasp?" I say. I pick up the scotch bottle and take a sip.

Broadsea's leaning in again. "It is for Finnick."

"That's enough," I snap. I stand up and dump the scotch bottle over his head. "You know, I keep thinking you're a nice guy and then you go and act like an ass. Do you want to be nice, or do you want to be a tool? Make up your mind!"

I storm back to my house, up the porch steps, and slam the front door behind me. Io and Britton are eating on the couch.

"Hey, Sis," says Britton. "Hungry?"

"No."

I stomp my way up the stairs and fling myself onto the bed. Then I scream into the pillows. How could Broadsea say that to me? He's an ass! He's a huge, giant, rude, annoying ass and I hope he just drinks himself to death.

It hurts when I think about what Finnick is doing. It hurts me. What if he forgets about me?

I pull my face out of the pillows when I'm out of breath. My pill bottles are set in a neat configuration; all stacked one on top of the other. I hate having to take them. But they're necessary for me.

All I can do is pack a tiny bag and go.

Soon after I met her, Finnick told me she was sweet – the shoulder you could cry on. He also said she could and would kick some ass if the situation called for it. And right now, I don't need an ass-kicking.

I knock on her door. As soon as Mags opens the door, I start crying. She just wraps her arms around me and shushes me.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you, but I don't have anybody else I can talk to," I say.

Mags shushes me. "You came to the right place, honey. Come inside and we can talk."


	10. Bloodbath

**I've been writing so much. And Spring Break starts next week, so I will publish a whole lot. But as a rule, I don't publish the next chapter until I get at least four reviews for the most recent one because I'm greedy. So if you review, I will post.**

**Bloodbath**

(FINNICK)

I wake up in Johanna's bed at the Training Center. She's still asleep and facing away from me. At first, I'm confused. But then the events of last night come rushing to the surface. I curse aloud and sit straight up. I toss off the sheets and pull on my suit.

There are no words to describe the guilt that immediately floods me. What did I do? Am I an idiot, or a complete moron? Or both?

One part of my brain is telling me, _you warned Annie before you two got involved. She knew it was coming – you _both_ did._ The other half of my brain is saying things to me that should never be repeated in polite company.

Instead of going to my room, I head straight to the Observation Room. There are already people there: that morphling addict Reselda, Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria, and Orion. None of them seem to mind that I'm in the same clothes as yesterday. But they all assume I was with a patron last night, or they simply don't care.

I lean as far back in my seat as I can go and start rapidly tapping my foot on the ground.

"Someone's nervous this morning," says Enobaria.

"He should be," Orion says. "Pluto is practically the winner already."

I snort. "You don't know Dodge. They'll probably end up killing _themselves_," I mutter.

Within the next fifteen minutes, the other mentors and victors trickle in. Johanna comes in last of all. She sits at the very front of the room and doesn't acknowledge me. Good old Johanna.

The television turns itself on at exactly ten o'clock. "Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Seventy-first Hunger Games!" Claudius Templesmith bellows.

The cameras cut to the arena, where the tributes' plates are rising. The arena itself looks sort of like a desert. There are tall grasses in one direction, an empty plain in another, and a scattering of crooked trees all around.

When the buzzer goes off, all tributes surge forward to the Cornucopia. Pluto – a black-haired boy with crazy eyes – seizes the female from ten and snaps her neck. "Woo!" he shouts, letting her body fall to the floor. He keeps moving.

The girl from 1, Golden, gets her hands on a spear and tosses it at the male from 12. It lands squarely in his chest.

Dodge arrives at the Cornucopia next. He grabs two swords. Before he gets the chance to start fighting, the girl from 5 grabs Pearl and slits her throat. Dodge shouts in anger and launches himself at her. He crosses his swords in an X-pattern on her throat. Then he slices, and her head is almost completely removed from her body – almost.

Sky takes on the boy from 7 in hand-to-hand combat. Sky wins it after strangling the boy with his belt.

Pluto goes absolutely insane. He stabs two people, but not fatally. He kills another person by sticking a knife in her temple. He's vicious. And the crowd absolutely loves him for it. I can tell right off the bat that he'll win, or at least rank higher-up.

In the end, Golden loses an eye and twelve tributes are dead. Dodge survives, but Pearl is dead. He earned extra sponsorship points from home for avenging her. He doesn't need anything right now, so I decide to save up the points until he does.

Later that night, I'm in my room with my patron for the evening. Her name is Deandra, and this will be our third and last get-together because of Snow's new one-per-customer rule. I find that funny because she's Snow's personal assistant.

Deandra comes at exactly nine o'clock. She slams the door shut behind her. She looks out of breath.

I'm sitting on the bed, legs stretched out in front of my and ankles crossed. "Do you have anything interesting for me?" I ask.

Deandra laughs and walks over to me. She reaches into her massive bag and pulls out a crinkled piece of paper. "I'm not really sure what it is, but I thought it might interest you."

I take the paper from her hand as she lights a cigarette. "You know for someone who organizes Snow's personal life, meetings, and baby-eatings, you are really just clueless."

She makes a slightly-amused snorting sort of noise. "Ouch." She takes a long drag of her cigarette. I pull out a cigarette of my own. "Need a light?" she asks.

I set my cigarette in the corner of my mouth. Deandra presses the end of hers to mine to light it. "Thanks," I mutter. The paper is stained with ink blots when I open it.

"What is it?" asks Deandra.

"Some kind of list . . ." I say. There are names on it, maybe ten of them. But they're all crossed out. As I study them, I notice some of them are familiar.

_Ezra Baron_

Ezra? Like the Ezra I saw Snow kill?

"Finnick? Are you ready?" Deandra asks.

"Yeah, one second," I say.

The last name on the paper is what really catches my eye.

_Alecta Saurel_

This is Snow's list of people to kill. But if Alecta is on it, why aren't I?

And then I understand. Snow _used_ me. He couldn't possibly have wanted to kill me – I'm too valuable and there would be too many unanswered questions. He gave me the poison, knowing that I would give it to Alecta.

I did his dirty work without knowing it. What _else_ have I done for him?

But here's the real question – how did he know I had the antidote?


	11. Secretive

**The whole poison thing will play a major role in a few chapters. Just be patient, my friends.**

**Secretive**

(ANNIE)

I'm sitting cross-legged on Mags's porch in a pair of Finnick's sunglasses.

I don't know how many days he's been gone. I don't know how many tributes are dead. But I know that the girl from here is dead. I was there when the hovercraft brought her body. Her parents and grandparents were crying. I ran as far from there as I could.

But there was nowhere I could go. There's no escaping your own mind. Or what's in it.

Had to stop in an alley because I couldn't move anymore. Relapsed. Passed out. Woke up again around midnight. Went back to Victor's Isle. Found Broadsea on the dunes. Didn't say anything. Just put my feet in the water and poured myself a drink.

Mags comes out on the porch and hands me a glass of orange juice. "How are ya?"

I shrug. "I have a question," I say. I look up at her. "What happened to Finnick's dad? He told me they weren't on good terms, but . . ."

"His biological father got lost at sea, I think," she says. She sits down on the porch swing behind me and I turn around to face her. "His stepdad doesn't really speak to him anymore, ever since his mom and brothers died."

"Brothers?" I ask.

Mags pulls her brows together. "Yes. You didn't know that?"

I shake my head. "No. He never told me he had brothers. Finnick barely tells me anything." Anything at all.

"Finnick is new to relationships," Mags says. "And he's not great with honesty."

_Yeah_, I think. _Finnick's not great with a lot of things_.

"I have to go," I say.

I hand the juice back to Mags, thank her, and head back home. Britton is upstairs with Io. I pop in to say hi and go back downstairs. With nothing to do, I decide to pace around the house for a while. It doesn't get rid of the anxiety, though.

How could he not tell me that? Brothers? Brothers?

There's a knock on the door. I open it up and find Broadsea leaning against one of the beams on the porch. He scratches the scar on his cheek and calmly asks, "Are you coming, or what?"

"Are you going to try and kiss me again?"

"Only if I'm drunk enough." He holds up a few bottles of beer. "And I'll warn you when I'm drunk enough."

"Okay."

By the time the sun goes down, I'm a little tipsy. Broadsea lights a bonfire on the beach. He sits beside it and watches the flames while I pace around barefoot in the shallows.

"I mean, _brothers_?" I say. I take a swig of vodka. "Trust. Is the key to any benationtip. Resationkip. Lerationwip." I struggle through the alcohol to pronounce the word.

"Relationship?" offers Broadsea.

"Yes!" I shout. "One of those. Things. And it's not like he's honest very awful. Often. Whatever. What else is he hiding?"

"He's part of an organization that wants to overthrow the Capitol," says Broadsea.

I stumble my way over to him. "If he _really_ did – wait, what?"

"I'm part of it, too," he says. "And so is Mags. And so are a lot of the other victors."

I'm not really sure how to take that. So I just take another sip of vodka. I've been drinking it so often lately it doesn't burn my throat anymore.

If I'm lucky, I'll forget every moment of this horribly stupid day.

"You need to find a release," Broadsea says. "Some way to get out all that anger." He stands. He takes his beer bottle and tosses it into the fire. After a second, it flares up in a mini-explosion. Then he starts laughing like a maniac.

"That wuh achully really cool," I say after a moment.

"Want to try?" he asks.

I sigh. "Sure." I grab a bottle, smash the neck of it with my shoe, and toss it into the flames. This mini-explosion comes faster than Broadsea's did.

Soon enough, we run out of alcohol. Broadsea volunteers to bring me home.

"You're brother's going to kill me if he sees how plastered you are," he says.

I snort. "Britton is a pansy. And if he fought you, you'd probably kill him and then I'd avenge his death, and somebody would have to avenge your death, then someone would avenge mine and it'd be this whole big mess." It's getting really hard to keep my eyes open.

Broadsea laughs. "You should really go to bed, Sweet Annie."

"I should," I say. "Why do you call me 'Sweet Annie'?"

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "It's got a ring to it."

The way he's looking at me is weird. I know I'll do something stupid if I don't go right now, but I can barely stand up straight.

"You remember when I told you I was drunk enough?" he says.

"Yes?"

"I'm drunk enough." He sighs and brushes a bit of my hair out of my eyes. "But you're too drunk."

"Thanks for walking me home," I say.

And I go upstairs.


	12. Cameras

**Thank you guys so much for being so nice and supportive! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your kindness.**

**Cameras**

(FINNICK)

"Help me!" the boy wails.

Cecelia is actually gagging at this point. She excuses herself and dashes out of the room. I'm pretty horrified myself. My upper lip is curled in disgust. Many of the other mentors look away. Johanna seems to be the only one that isn't affected.

On screen, the surviving five tributes scramble to climb a tree and escape. The lion is still preoccupied with eating that boy alive. I don't know what district he's from, but I know that he's not from mine. In fact, Dodge is one of the tributes that have climbed the tree.

The boy starts wailing and sobbing desperately. Many of the other tributes clamp their hands over their ears and squeeze their eyes shut to pretend it's not happening. Annie comes to my mind. She's been doing that a lot lately . . .

In a matter of moments, the lion has finished its meal. The boy lies in five chunks of raw, bloody meat. His cannon hasn't gone off yet. The lion licks its filthy maw and slowly makes its way towards the tree where the other tributes are.

And then _BOOM_ – off goes that poor boy's cannon. The lion's head turns at the sound. Pluto takes the opportunity. He grabs his sword and leaps from the branches, landing right on the lion's neck. He plunges the sword into its shoulder and yanks it out, only to shove it into the skull. The whole time, he's shouting like a madman.

Orion and Enobaria start whispering to one another. Pluto's just earned himself several hundred sponsorship points.

Johanna runs her fingers through her brown hair and says, "I think he was Cecelia's tribute." She sighs. "It's either that or morning sickness. I tell you, that woman breeds like a mouse."

"First of all, she's only got two kids," I say. "Second, you're lack of tact concerns me, quite frankly."

We're drawn back into the arena by cries of glee. "Damn I'm good!" shouts Pluto. He wipes his sword on his pants.

"Yeah, hoss," Dodge says sarcastically. He leaps down from the tree. "Maybe we should all just give up now and crown the tool."

Pluto gets up in Dodge's face, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him against the tree. He's a few inches shorter than Dodge, but he manages to be intimidating. "You got a problem?"

"Several," says Dodge. He grabs Pluto's shoulders and throws him off. "First and foremost, don't touch me. Second, _you're_ the one that steered us into this enormous cat." Dodge gestures to the lion's carcass. "Frankly, hoss, I'm getting real sick of you." His hands wrap around the hilts of his swords.

Pluto draws his own sword and presses the tip of it to Dodge's throat. "Want to do something about it, _hoss_?"

Golden, the girl from 1, smacks Pluto's sword away. "Both of you, chill," she says. She turns to Dodge. "Yes, he steered us into the lion, but he also killed it." She turns to Pluto. "I happen to like the way he speaks. And he's right – you need to think before you do stupid stuff."

"We've got a long way to go before you two can start stabbing each other," says Nyx. Pluto and Dodge both let go of their weapons, but continue glaring at each other.

I tap Johanna on the arm and nod towards the door. We get up and head out. On our way to the elevator, Johanna sighs. "I was thinking," she says.

"Were you?" I say.

"Yes," she replies. "I mean, who's better at separating sex from emotions than we are?"

"No one."

"Exactly."

By this, she means it doesn't matter we had sex. That's good. Isn't it? Yes. It's good. Yes.

We reach my floor. I tell Johanna to sit down in the living room while I go into my room and grab the poison. It's exactly where I left it. But the rest of the room isn't. No one else would be able to tell, but I can. Someone has been in here.

I pick through for the important stuff. My picture of Mags is still in my sock drawer. My picture of Annie is still under my pillow. But when I look for the list Deandra gave me, I can't find it. What I do find is a tiny black circle nestled in the corner by the ceiling.

"What the hell?" I slam my elbow against that little square and break it. Wires fall from between the shards of glass. It's a camera.

"Finnick!" shouts Johanna. I run back into the living room. Johanna is standing in front of the television. She holds out her hand. There's a white rose in her palm.

"What is this?" I ask. But I know the answer for myself.

"There's a note, too." She hands me a piece of paper with _turn on the television_ written on it in neat cursive.

So I turn it on. It's the news.

"_. . . president's personal assistant has been found dead of what appears to be a drug overdose,"_ the reporter says. He's standing in front of the Dome. Behind him, two paramedics wheel out a stretcher with a body bag on it. "_Deandra was found dead by . . ."_

"Deandra," Johanna says. "Isn't that the girl who gave you –?"

The television screen fuzzes out. The news feed is replaced by a bunch of black and white dots swirling around the screen. Then, there's a new picture.

It's a bird's-eye view of Mags and Wrather sitting in Mags's kitchen. There's no audio, though. They're just cooking, chatting about something. At one point, Mags starts to laugh.

The screen fuzzes again, and then a new image pops up. This time, it's _my_ cats lounging on _my_ desk in _my_ library.

Once again, fuzz. And then I see Broadsea and Annie sitting on her porch in swimsuits and beach towels. Drinking beer. Laughing.

The screen goes dark. Then slowly, typing appears one letter at a time. _WATCH_YOURSELF__

And then the footage cuts to the Hunger Games.


	13. The Call

**Filler chapter, not great . . .**

**The Call**

(ANNIE)

"Get in the water!" shouts Broadsea.

"But it's cold!" I complain.

"Either you get in the water or I will _drag_ you in," he growls.

I sit down on the edge of the pier and stick my feet in the water. "Don't rush me, Broadsea."

He slowly sinks under the water. A few bubbles fly up to the surface and pop. I don't see him when he resurfaces. All I see are two arms reaching out of the water to grab me by my ankles. Then he pulls me off the pier and into the water.

I know it's meant to be playful, but something about it brings me back to the arena. Back to the flood.

_The flood. I am being dragged underwater. Fingers are bleeding from clawing at the buildings. Drowning. Everyone is drowning . . ._

I'm under now. I open my eyes. The saltwater hurts, but at least I can see. I know Broadsea is there, but I don't know where he is.

_I'm at home, I'm at home, I'm at home. It's not the arena. I'm not in the arena_.

My hands want to cover my ears, but they reach for the beam under the pier instead. I scramble to climb it. When I reach the top, I collapse on the boards and start coughing uncontrollably. _Now_ my hands are on my ears.

_I'm not in the arena anymore. I'm not in the arena_, I tell myself. _I'm not drowning. I'm safe._ I dig my fingers into my wrist around one of the three safety bracelets I'm wearing. There are still chills crawling up my spine, and I can faintly taste blood.

The pier's boards creak as Broadsea pulls himself up beside me. "Annie? Are you okay?" he asks.

It takes several minutes for me to answer. I shake my head vehemently. "You can't do that to me. Ever." I swallow. "I'm crazy, remember? You can't – you – you can't –"

"I'm sorry," says Broadsea. He actually means it. I think this is the first time I've heard Broadsea being serious when he's not being an ass.

All I can do is nod.

"Annie!"

My head snaps up. Britton is standing on the porch. "What?" I ask.

"Phone for you," he says. "Trust me, you want to take this."

I wrap my towel around myself, grab my shorts and flip flops, and run over to the house. "This better be good," I say to Britton. I sit down on one of the chairs and grab the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Annie," a calm voice says.

"Finnick!" I exclaim.

His laugh comes through the receiver. "Well, hello there." His tone changes quickly to concerned. "How are you?"

Why's he talking like that? He sounds genuinely scared.

"I've been better," I say. "I really miss you."

"I miss you too," he says.

There's a little pause. I consider asking him about his brothers, but think better of it. "How are things with you?" I ask.

He sighs. "Complicated." Complicated. What a simple answer. Now I'm _positive_ he's hiding something. But I won't bring it up. It's too good hearing his voice again. "How's Broadsea?"

Why's he asking about Broadsea?

"He's all right. Still kind of an ass." I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "He's got me drinking, you know."

It's like I can _hear_ his eyebrows raising. "Is he, now?"

"Oh, shush," I say. "You drink all the _time_."

"I'm not saying anything," Finnick says defensively. There's a short pause. "I, uh" – he clears his throat – "I have to go."

"Oh. Um. . ." I can't find the right words. "I love you!" I say in the sweetest voice I can muster.

"Love you too." He sounds distracted. "Could you put Britton back on?"

"Britton?" I ask. "Uh . . . sure." I cover the phone's speaker. "Brit! Finnick wants to talk to you!"

Britton shows up a few seconds later. He doesn't seem off-put by Finnick's request. He just thanks me, grabs the phone, and asks Finnick what's up. Then he shoos me away with his hand. I go into the kitchen, but I watch through the door.

"Yeah," says Britton. "They're friends, I guess." He pauses while Finnick talks. "No. Nothing like that . . . Are you kidding me?" Pause. "All right. Well, who should I ask – Broadsea?"

Now I'm really confused. Britton hangs up the phone and I go upstairs to have a shower and wash the saltwater from my hair. It's one of those long, relaxing showers where you think you're going to fall asleep. Even though it's only noon, I change into my pajamas and wrap a towel around my head.

I go downstairs quietly. I go into the kitchen for a drink. As I open the fridge, I hear voices. So, I go to investigate. Quietly, I make my way into the living room and peer out the front window from my post behind the house.

The porch is in view. Britton and Broadsea are on the porch. Broadsea is talking. Britton asks questions every now and then. After a few minutes, Britton grabs a broom from the porch corner. He holds onto it and rams it into a ceiling corner of the porch. Shards of glass fall down. Britton reaches up and pulls out a square black box with wires coming out of it. Broadsea says something to him, and Britton hands the box over. Broadsea drops it on the ground and stomps on it.

A question pops into my mind: Am I paranoid, or is everyone keeping secrets?


	14. Confession

**JohannaxFinnick drama!**

**Confession**

(FINNICK)

There are eight tributes left, including Dodge. That means it's time for the interviews.

After a morning visit with a patron, I get ready. I remember Annie's interview. Annie. I really miss her. After I saw that video-message from Snow, I had to let Britton in on it – all of it. Broadsea's been filling him in on the Capitol-overthrowing and all that fun stuff. I wonder how he's taking it.

Broadsea's also telling him not to let Annie in on it. I'm sure he'll understand why – Annie will be the first one they'll come to if I do something wrong. And the less she knows, the safer she is. At least, I hope Broadsea's telling him that.

What does she think of all this? She must know _something's_ up.

The interviewer is a woman named Hermia. I've met her a few times before; she's been the interviewer since the 67th Games – Johanna's Games. That was the first time I met her. And since my district is 4, I'm interviewed almost every year.

She's nicer than most Capitol women I know. Also, she hasn't had too much surgery. Her eyes are surgical silver with copper flecks, and her hair is navy blue.

"Hello, Panem!" she says into the camera. "I am here with the lovely Finnick Odair. Finnick. How are you?"

I wave at the camera. "Hello, world." I turn back to Hermia and lie through my teeth. "I am fantastic, thank you. How are you doing?"

"I. Am. Wonderful!" Hermia says in the peppiest of voices. "So, Finnick, how long have you known Dodge?" Her right foot taps against the ground in a steady beat.

"Four, maybe five years," I say.

"You two close?" she asks.

"Not particularly. We swim together on occasion, but that's about it."

"Did you know Pearl?"

"No." I shake my head. "Not at all."

"What chance do you think Dodge has of winning the Games?

"Of course," I say. I'm being serious. "That Pluto kid's got a good chance, too, but Dodge's just as likely as he is."

"I'm sure he is," says Hermia. She turns towards the camera. "Well, there you have it, folks. Finnick Odair's input on his tribute, Dodge Marsall."

The smile wipes off of her face as the camera operator yells "Cut!"

"Thanks for talking to us, Finnick," Hermia says, shaking my hand.

"No problem," I say.

I go over to a patron's house later that day and don't make it back to the Training Center until after dark. When I get back to the fourth floor, all the lights are off. There's someone sitting on the couch, staring at the television. It's muted, but the interviews are on.

When I reach the living room I flip the light switch to see that Johanna's the one on the couch. She groans and shuts her eyes at the light.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, sighing.

"What?" Johanna asks. "You're not happy to see me?" She's slurring and even across the room, I can smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

She slams her tumbler down on the coffee table, splashing its contents across the table and carpet. She doesn't say anything, but I take her silence as an affirmative answer.

I remove my jacket and fold it over my arm. "Go to bed, Johanna. I don't have time to deal with this crap."

Johanna snorts. "You don't have time for anything. It's all Annie, Annie, Annie these days." She looks at my eyes or the first time. "It's bull, Finnick."

I put my jacket over the chair of an arm and walk over to the couch to start cleaning up her mess. "You are drunk."

"Do you want to know why?" she says, standing.

I straighten up. "Not particularly, but knowing you, you're just gonna go ahead and tell me anyway, aren't you?"

"I'm in love with you!" she blurts out.

I laugh without a hint of humor in my voice. "What?"

Johanna swallows hard. "I'm in love with you."

For some reason – and I have no idea why – this pisses me off. "You show up here, drunk off your ass and –"

"I always have been," she says quietly.

"You've always been an incorrigible bitch, but now you're just spouting out random crap for attention," I whisper.

"I know you know it," she says.

There's not really anything I can say to that. I've suspected something every now and then, but I always pushed it into the back of my mind because Johanna and I are _friends_. Always have been. Always will be. Nothing else. Just friends.

After a moment, Johanna says "Are you going to say something?"

My voice is far quieter than I intend it to be. "What would you like me to say? I love you, Johanna, but I'm not _in_ love with you." I put my hands on her shoulders and start guiding her to the door. "And tomorrow, you will be hung-over. You're going to forget all about this. And you and I will go back to the way we were."

Before she has the chance to say anything else, I push her out the door and slam it shut behind her.

I cannot wait for these Games to end.


	15. Relapse

**There will be a third and possibly a fourth in this series. The next one will be before and during _Catching_ _Fire_ from Finnick and Annie's POVs. If there is a fourth, it'll be _Mockingjay_. The reason I might not do it is because I refuse to acknowledge Finnick's death. So if I do _Mockingjay_, Finnick won't die and that might get a little weird . . .**

**Relapse**

(ANNIE)

Yesterday, they came to interview me about Dodge. I held it to together well – so _well_ – until they asked me about my own Games. Asked about Asper. The head. The flood. Everything. I tried to keep it together as best as I could. But I failed.

It was terrible. The images came flooding back to me in an instant. I hunched over and covered my ears as Britton shouted for them to stop. I fell off my chair screaming.

It was like I was there. I could remember waking up as Talon dragged me out of my sleeping bag by my hair. I remembered grabbing my knife and sticking it between his two lowest ribs. I remembered fighting for my life and Asper's. I remembered.

I could almost feel Balinor's breath on me as I sunk my knife into Egma's calf and dragged it down. I remembered Asper dragging his fingernail's across Shine's face so hard he drew blood. I remembered the entire fight. I remembered how, when I lost my footing, Talon got the upper hand and managed to hold me back while the others got Asper. I remembered how Asper broke Balinor's nose with his head. I remembered how Asper screamed as they slaughtered him.

When the memories started to fade, I could see the camera crew. Three of them looked horrified. The other three laughed in amusement and started to crack jokes and reminisce about how stupid I acted during and after my Games last year. They said I should get a lobotomy as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I was crying on the floor.

Broadsea chased them out of the house while Britton helped me get upstairs. I forced him to leave me alone. I took a shower, changed into my pajamas, crawled into bed, and haven't left since.

I'm staring up at the blank ceiling just after dawn when there's a knock on my door. A few seconds later, Britton comes in with a tray.

"I brought you lunch," he says. He puts the tray down on top of my vanity table.

I force my lips to move. "Thanks," I say. "You're a good brother."

"I'm the best brother, stupid," he says softly. "Do you need anything else?" I shake my head. "Well, just shout if you do." He walks to the door. "I love you, sis," he says before shutting the door behind him.

I have a staring match with that food for a while before I fill a glass with tap water from the bathroom and take a handful of pills from my many bottles. I feel better almost immediately. I fall asleep soon after.

_I'm running. I don't know what from, but I'm running all the same. Someone is calling for me, but I'm running away from the voice. Its owner wants to hurt me. So I have to run. Run. Run. Run. Don't look back. Run. Run. Run._

_"Annie!" the voice says sweetly. Can't look at it. Can't turn around, no matter how sweet the voice is. "I'm not going to hurt you," it says. The voice suddenly becomes harsher. "LOOK AT ME."_

_Keep running. Run until I reach a wall. All smooth. No cracks. Nothing to climb. Claw at it anyway. fingers are bleeding. Bloody handprints on the wall._

_"LOOK AT ME."_

_I turn around. Finnick is there. He smiles at me, showing me his fangs. Wait, fangs? He opens his mouth and snarls like an animal before grabbing me. Behind him, I can see a wave of blood. It crashes down on us and swallows us whole._

When I wake up, Broadsea's in my room. He's by my nightstand, pulling two pills out of one of my bottles. He pops them into his mouth. "Good evening, Sweet Annie," he says, capping the pill bottle. He doesn't look up.

"Why were you taking my pills?" I ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly and sits down on the edge of my bed. "You've been asleep for the whole damn day. Finnick called while you were out."

I sit up. "How is he? What did he say?"

"He's fine," says Broadsea. "He called to see how you were." He sees my confused expression and explains, "They aired it. Your, um . . . relapse yesterday. They showed it on television along with the other interviews."

Immediately, I'm flooded by two emotions: anger and embarrassment. But I shouldn't be surprised. They want to continuously prove my insanity to the whole country.

"Why can't they leave me _alone_?" I shout. I slam my head back against the headboard and bite my lip to keep from crying.

Broadsea hushes me. "It's okay," he says quietly.

"It's _humiliating_!" I cry. "Do they _like_ making me suffer?" I've stopped biting my lip, so the tears have started flowing. That just adds to the embarrassment. It takes a few moments for me to regain my composure. And even then, I don't look Broadsea in the eye out of shame.

"Get changed," he says. "We're going swimming."

He leaves me alone. I do as I'm told and change. When I'm through, I cry a little more just to get it out of my system. Then I go downstairs and bury all the pain in the back of my mind.

Broadsea and I go down to the beach and wade into the shallows. The water's warm and calm this time of year. It reflects the sky perfectly.

As we tread water, Broadsea strikes up a conversation. "How'd you sleep?"

"I had a nightmare about Finnick," I say.

"Do you have a lot of nightmares about him?" Broadsea asks.

"No," I say. "I don't dream about him much, either."

"Do you dream about me?" he asks.

"No," I say again.

That's such a strange question. Why would he ask that?


	16. Grand Finale

**WARNING: Incredibly gory chapter! This is the final chapter of Dodge in the Games! Also, I won't be updating as often now because I am on vacation.**

**Grand Finale**

(FINNICK)

There are four tributes left: Pluto, Nyx, Golden, and Doge.

Sky fell into quicksand two days ago. It swallowed him up and nearly claimed Nyx, but she made it out. The other non-Career tributes have been killed by each other, mutts, or hunger. The remaining Careers are just about to turn on each other.

I'm sitting with Cashmere, Orion, Enobaria, and Gloss in the Observation Room. Johanna went back the day before yesterday. She doesn't remember telling me she loved me – or if she does, she pretended like she didn't.

"When I get home," Golden starts, "I'm going to get myself a brand new eye."

Pluto turns his sword over in his hand and chuckles. "She thinks she's going home," he says to Nyx. He continues to laugh with his cousin for a moment before he shoves his sword straight through her chest. He's sitting down, and when she hunches over to his level, she coughs blood right into his face. Once her cannon sounds, he pulls out his sword and allows her body to fall to the ground.

"Holy crap!" says Gloss.

In the arena, both Golden and Dodge stare down at Nyx's body. Pluto tries to wipe the blood off of his face with the back of his hand, but just ends up smearing it all over. Golden looks over at him with her single brown eye. Her empty eye socket has scarred shut, giving her a terrifying look.

There's a long pause that lasts for over a minute while the three of them – Dodge, Golden, and Pluto – just stare at one another. Finally, Golden lets out a battle cry and draws her spear. Pluto and Dodge draw their swords.

Pluto takes a swing at Dodge. But Dodge holds up both of his swords and blocks it. Golden then tries to spear him in the side, but he kicks it away. Dodge pulls up his swords and tries to go for that signature X-shape maneuver on Golden's throat, but she ducks. Dodge's swords get stuck in the trunk of the tree that was behind Golden.

He tries to yank them out, but he can't. Pluto tries to run him through, but Dodge moves just in time. Golden hits Dodge in the head and he falls to the ground. She and Pluto struggle for quite some time before Dodge kicks Golden's legs out from under her.

He grabs her by the chin and the back of the head and tries to break her neck, but she manages to sink her teeth into his wrist. She bites off a chunk of flesh from it. Dodge screams in pain and releases her. She spits out the mouthful of arm on the dirty ground.

Pluto tries to finish Doge off, but he's still got some fight left in him. In a single swift motion, he breaks Pluto's left thumb by chopping it with his right hand. Dodge bounces up and resumes trying to free his swords from the tree.

"Come on, come on, come _on_!" I say, as if he can hear me.

Pluto and Golden keep struggling. Golden tries to punch Pluto, but he catches her by the wrist. He uses his free hand to grab her elbow and snaps her forearms like a twig. The bone sticks out of the wound. Golden screams at the top of her lungs.

In the struggle, the head of Golden's spear has broken off from the shaft.

Dodge manages to free his swords. He uses one to slit her throat while the other impales her through the chest. It's almost funny how quickly we hear her cannon. Dodge removes his swords and kicks Golden's body to the ground. "Just you and me now, hoss!" he shouts to Pluto.

"Damn it!" shouts Cashmere. She slams her fist down on the couch's armrest. Gloss's nostrils are flared. He curses, too – but quietly.

Personally, I'm not sad for their loss. Dodge is one death closer to coming home. One more to go.

"I was really hoping I'd be the one to kill you," Pluto says. There's genuine happiness in his voice. He and Dodge begin to circle one another.

"I was hoping somebody else would finish you off," Dodge says sincerely.

"Why?" Pluto asks. "Because you know you can't beat me?"

Dodge stops circling. "Because I'll _enjoy_ killing you. And I don't want to _like_ murdering people."

Whoa. Dodge just said something deep.

Pluto snorts. "How poetic."

There's a second where they size each other up. Then Dodge goes for his X-on-throat move, but Pluto stops him by wedging his weapon where Dodge's two blades meet. He uses this to push Dodge's blades away. Dodge stumbles, but Pluto doesn't take advantage of his momentary weakness.

When Dodge does pop back up, his arms are raised. Pluto shoves his sword through Dodge's upper arm – the same arm that Golden bit. Dodge screams in agony as Pluto rips the sword out. Dodge falls backwards against a tree and sinks to the ground. His arm is too weak to hold on, so he drops his sword.

If he comes home, he'll probably get that amputated.

"Shall I follow in predecessor's footsteps?" asks Pluto. "Chop off the District Four boy's head in nearly a dozen swings? That'd hurt."

"Why drag it out, hoss?" Dodge asks. "Why don't you just kill me now?"

Pluto straightens up. "I want to give the audience a good show, don't I?" He continues thinking aloud, brainstorming ideas on how he could draw out Dodge's death.

_Get up_, I think at Dodge. _Get up_! _Please_!

While Pluto's distracted, Dodge picks up Golden's broken spearhead. With his good hand, he shoves it into Pluto's thigh. Pluto cries out and falls to the ground.

Dodge slowly brings himself onto his feet and grabs one sword with each hand. "A smart guy would've killed me quick," he says. "The longer you make it, the more chance there is that your victim will bounce back."

He inserts each sword on opposite sides at the base of Pluto's neck, right by his shoulders. Their tips poke out opposite sides of his torso. Inside Pluto's body, the swords have formed that signature x-shape as they pierce his vitals.

The moment Pluto's cannon blasts, I stand up and shout, "Yes!"

"I don't believe it!" Claudius Templesmith shouts over the speaker systems. "Finnick Odair has mentored two victors in two years! Congratulations, Finnick, and congratulations District Four! Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present your victor of the Seventy-first Hunger Games, Dodge Marsall!"

Dodge won.


	17. Twin Triumph

**More Annie and Broadsea stuff. Oh, and THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH for everything! You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

**Twin Triumphs**

(ANNIE)

Dodge won the Games. And since I won last year, Finnick has achieved what's known as a Twin Triumph. It's when two victors from the same district win in consecutive years. It's an extra-big deal because Finnick was the victor of a Twin Triumph himself, since Broadsea won the year before he did.

They're not very common in 4, so there's always a huge celebration.

All the kids made special necklaces for the entire district just like my friends and I did after Finnick's Games. They're pieces of black cord with clay medallions that have 70 carved into one side and 71 carved into the other. There's also a small cowry shell strung on them.

Everyone in the district wears one. And since Finnick was our mentor, some people also wear the ones that were made for his Twin Triumph. (It's exactly the same, only the medallions have 64 and 65 carved into them.)

All able-bodied people – every man, woman, and child – assists in preparing for the celebration. Some – like me – are sent into the forest to gather wood for the many bonfires we'll have. Tables, chairs, and fire pits are set up on the beach of Mainland. There will be enough space and food for the roughly ten thousand people that live here.

Calliope and I are carrying firewood to the pits. "You must be excited to see Finnick," she says.

I nod. "Yes." It'll be strange to see him, knowing all he's done while he was gone. And I know that he's keeping things from me. I'm not sure how it'll go, but I do want to see him.

"You and Broadsea are getting close," Cal says. We stop by the nearest fire pit and start placing our branches in it. "Do you like him?"

This makes me look up, right into her cobalt-blue eyes. "Like-like him?" I ask. She nods. "Ugh!" I gag. "Broadsea? _Broadsea_? Never. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever. _Ever_. No."

Cal gets a funny look on her face and goes back to setting her sticks. "I'm almost positive that he likes _you_," she mutters.

"But I don't like him," I say. "He's an epicurean asshole."

She looks up at me. "Isn't Finnick one, too?"

I crack a smile and jokingly say, "Is it lonely up there on your pedestal of philosophical wisdom and holier-than-thou attitude?"

"You are so sassy today," Cal says, laughing. " And talkative. I don't think I've heard you say this much in one conversation since we were twelve."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "Did you see Dodge's interview this morning?"

"Yes. He doesn't seem the same."

I only saw a clip of it. I had to turn it off because the questions were getting specific. He still called Caesar "hoss," but there was something off about him. That childish light was gone from his eyes. He didn't smile at all. His answers were succinct - not the long, wordy things that they were before the Games.

"They change everyone," says Cal quietly. "The Games."

That pisses me off. Cal. Acting like she knows a single thing about the Games. Before I can react, a huge log drops into the center of the pile.

We look up to see Broadsea standing with his hands on his hips. "Hello, ladies."

Calliope smiles and adresses him like they're old friends, even though I'm positive they've never formally met. "Hey, Broadsea. We were just talking about you."

Broadsea frowns at her. "No one likes a gossip." He gestures towards the woods. "Go." Cal's eyes widen. She looks both shocked and offended, but gets up and goes anyway.

"You didn't have to be rude," I say.

"She obviously pissed you off," he says. "Besides, she looks annoying." He holds out his hand to me. "Come on. Let's get more wood." I take his hand and he helps me up.

When we reach the woods, I wander a few yards away from Broadsea. "Tell me about Xandria," I say. I've been curious about her ever since Broadsea told me he loved her.

"She was a complete bitch," he says. "We always fought. Nobody would ever win. That's why we were so good at training; it was an outlet. It'd keep us from hurting _each_ _other_. Neither of us was happy with the other, but whenever we weren't a couple, there was something missing. We were one of those makeup-breakup couples, you know?"

I nod.

He sighs. "When she first died, I was relieved. I was almost happy that I wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. No more fights, no more tears, no more misery. But after a couple of days, I started hurting. It sank in that I wouldn't see her again. Then it occurred to me that if it weren't for Finnick, she'd be alive."

I remember her death. She was going to win. After a long battle, she finally had Finnick pinned to the ground on his back. She used his own trident, shoving it into his chest. I remember that Finnick winced, but didn't make a noise. He put his hands between the prongs and tried to push the trident out, but Xandria had all her weight on it.

The arena was a jungle, and there were these Gamemaker-designed vines. They'd wrap themselves around you and squeeze. They killed one of the Careers the first night. Finnick cut them off of the Career's body and made them into a net.

It was right beside him. He reached out for it, and Xandria noticed too late. He managed to throw it at her. It wrapped itself around her neck and squeezed. She let go of Finnick, who grabbed the trident and used it to kill her.

"And so began my vendetta," continues Broadsea.

"I'm so sorry," I say.

Broadsea shrugs casually and breaks a thick branch off a beech tree. "It doesn't matter. I learned my lesson. Now I surround myself with nicer, prettier girls." He looks up at me, and I immediately turn away from him.

Uncomfortable, I wander a bit farther away. "And how's that working out for you?" I ask.

"Terribly," he says. "I'm a passionate guy; I like drama." He's making his way over to me. "And certain nice, pretty girls don't like to cause it."

He's too close for comfort. I try to move away from him, and end up facing a tree, trying to peel off some of the bark. He's right behind me; I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. I turn around. He puts one arm over my head and puts his free hand on the side of my neck. He tilts his head and starts moving it forwards.

I can't think right. I have no idea what to do or say. I can't even move. I'm not sure what to do. Broadsea and I have kissed before. Plenty of times. But this one isn't the same.

He sure is taking his time. Our lips haven't even touched yet! Maybe he's waiting for me to stop him. So, why don't I?

"Annie?" Broadsea moves enough so I can see Calliope. "I, um, n-need your help with something," she improvises.

I duck under Broadsea's arm and jog over to her. _Thank you,_ I mouth.

Cal nods. She's staring right at Broadsea, but I don't dare turn around.


	18. Celebration

**Celebration**

(FINNICK)

Dodge opens and closes his metal fist, trying to get used to the feel of his new metal arm. Golden and Pluto messed it up so badly, it had to be amputated. Now he's got a new robotic one that Beetee supposedly helped design.

I can tell he hates it, just like he hates what he's turned into because of the Games. He tries to bury it, but I swear I saw tears in his eyes when Caesar Flickerman asked him about what it felt like to kill someone.

Dodge has been changed. We all have.

"It'll take a while to get used to," I tell him.

"I guess it all will," he says quietly. "I get it now – why Annie went mad." He looks up at me. "I don't feel right, Boss." He grabs his leather glove off the table and slips it over his metal hand.

I sigh and sit across from him. "You're lucky. I've killed so many people, I've stopped caring. But the ones I killed in the Games. Them, I remember." Like Wonder, who I stabbed while kissing. She was actually my first kiss.

The train's conductor announces that we're about to arrive in District 4. I go to my room and change. When we step off the train, we are swarmed by cameras. The whole district has shown up, including the other victors.

Annie stands between Broadsea and Mags. She's in a blue dress with a flower in her curly brown hair. She looks like she's about to run for me, but Broadsea wraps his hand around her upper arm and whispers something in her ear. She stays still, but smiles at me. I smile back casually.

Dodge and Wrather hug. When they pull away, Wrather puts his hands on Dodge's shoulders and talks to him quietly. I go straight to Mags and hug her. Then it's a nod at Wrather and Broadsea, and a careful kiss on the cheek for Annie. I try to make it quick and emotionless, but I don't know if it's believable.

After sundown, the town migrates to the beach along with a few camera crews for the Twin Triumph celebration. There's enough food and drink for everyone in the district to have second helpings. I'm seated at the main table in the center. Mags sits to the far right, Wrather to her left, Dodge to his, then me. On my left is Annie, then Broadsea.

Before we start eating, Annie's right hand slides under the table. My left does, too. They find each other and intertwine their fingers. I squeeze her hand. Our silent reunion.

I'd be happy, if thoughts of Johanna weren't hovering around in the back of my mind.

When we're done eating, Annie asks Dodge to dance. Mags and Wrather dance, too. With no one else at the victors' table, I rise and stand behind Broadsea's chair. "Hello," I say.

"Finnick," Broadsea says. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"How's Annie been?" I ask. "I saw her, um, _meltdown_ on television."

Broadsea turns around and smiles. His scar is bright red in the firelight, like it's recently been reopened. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over Annie. I have been taking _excellent_ care of her."

Annie trots over to us. On the other side of the table, she holds her hand out to me. "Dance with me."

I look at Broadsea and smirk. "I'd love to." I take Annie's hand and we make our way over to the bonfire. I try to keep her at arm's length in front of the cameras, but it's hard.

As we start to dance, Annie smiles. "You remember this song?" she asks.

I listen for a moment. "This is the song we danced to in the Capitol, right?"

Annie smiles. I forgot how much I loved her smile. "Yes."

We start swaying to the beat. "So, you and Broadsea are friends now?" I ask.

She sighs like it's not just a yes-or-no question. "I guess so," she says. I turn her on the word _swimming_ and we resume swaying. "You really want to know about Broadsea? I mean, there _are_ other things to discuss." Spin again. "Then again, it's not like we've been apart for weeks," she adds sarcastically.

"There _are_ other things," I say. "And we _will_ discuss them. Tonight. My place?" She smiles, nodding. I smile, too.

We finish the dance in silence. There's not much we can say with the cameras still lingering. And we don't need to speak anyway; it's just nice to be near her. Actually, I'm surprised how happy it makes me just to be dancing with her.

I try to wipe all thoughts of Johanna from my mind by the time the dance ends and Annie's friend Calliope pulls her away. I go back to the table and sit by Broadsea. We both put our feet up on the table and share some grapes in silence.

"Friends, eh?" I say after a while.

"Yep." Broadsea pops a grape into his mouth and watches Britton's girlfriend dance. He's got that weird look in his eye when you can tell his thoughts are straying towards a more adult nature.

"That's what I don't get," I say. "You don't _have_ any friends, Broadsea. Unless, of course, you count me, but I prefer to think of us" – I put my hand on his shoulder – "as acquaintances."

Broadsea kicks back what's left in his liquor glass. "Die in a hole, Finnick." And he gets up and walks over to where Britton's girlfriend is. Instead of watching him strike out, I find Mags.

We dance and catch up a little. Eventually, the camera crews disappear. That's when I tell Mags everything it wasn't safe to say over the phone – everything except what happened with Johanna and how she got drunk and told me she loved me.

"That's off-putting," Mags says when I'm done. "Looks like you and Broadsea have to go hunting for some information, eh?"

I groan. The idea of doing anything with Broadsea is unappealing. "What should we do about Dodge?" I ask.

"Let Wrather handle him for now," Mags says. "You have a date to get to."


	19. Guilt

**I doubt I'll post a new chapter tomorrow, but I will try to post one the day after. Don't worry, Annie and Finnick have the "Johanna" talk very soon!**

**Guilt**

(FINNICK)

The moment the door slams shut behind us, I've got my arms wrapped around Annie. She wraps her own arms around my neck, knots her fingers in my hair, and pulls our faces together. As we kiss, we try to walk towards the living room. That doesn't work, so I just hoist her up and carry her in.

I set her down on the couch and climb on top of her. I make sure she doesn't feel any of my weight. We keep kissing, but not for long. In a matter of seconds, guilt hits me like a ton of bricks. I sit up as images of Johanna begin to swim before my eyes.

"What is it?" Annie asks quickly. She probably thinks she's done something wrong. Well, that's Annie for you.

"Brief pause," I say, trying to regain my breath. "Momentary break."

Annie sits up on her side of the couch and uncomfortably wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah, that was getting, uh . . ."

"Yeah," I say. I manage to drown the images under thoughts of Annie. I turn to her and smile. "Hi."

Annie giggles. "Hi."

I reach out and run my fingers through her hair, touch her tanned cheek. I forgot how pretty she was. Soft hair. Smooth skin. Bright green eyes. And that smile – that smile I've almost forgotten without even realizing it. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says quietly. "Are you okay? You're looking kind of pale . . ."

"I'm fine," I promise her. "I missed you."

Instead of saying something, Annie gives me a very light kiss. She then excuses herself to change and take a shower. I let her use mine and take one of the guest bathrooms. My shower is quick. I have plenty of time to down two shots and tell myself what an idiot I am.

Annie comes back downstairs. I sit on the couch and watch her pace around the room while she tugs a brush through the knots in her hair. After a little while, Annie becomes aware of the fact I'm watching her. She hides behind her hair to quietly ask, "What?"

"I forgot how pretty you were," I say. I open my arms. "Come here."

She does. She curls up on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I really, really, really missed you, Finnick." Her voice is very quiet. It sounds like she wants to ask me something. "Weird stuff's been going on around here."

_Weird? What kind of weird_? I wonder. Does she know something's up? She must. She simply has to . . .

I change the subject by asking her questions about what she's been doing while I'm gone. Broadsea is a reoccurring theme. Annie seems a little bit uncomfortable talking about him, and I have to say I'm uncomfortable hearing about him.

After a while, her breathing starts to get slower and heavier. She's asleep. I very gently pick her up and carry her upstairs. I manage to set her down on the bed and pull the covers up to her shoulders. Then, I take a moment to brush the hair away from her face.

A wave of guilt comes crashing down on me. I snap my hand back instinctively. It's so bad I actually have to turn around. I've felt guilt – believe me, I have felt guilt. I feel it whenever I kill somebody or get somebody killed. But guilt like this is completely different.

I go downstairs and pour myself a glass of bourbon, which I down at once.

How can I be so stupid? You'd think I would have some self-control, but no – I had to go and sleep with Johanna and she had to go get drunk and tell me she loved me.

I haven't just hurt Annie, but I've hurt Johanna. Have I really been leading her on all these years? I never meant to . . .

Tulie – my black-and-white cat – rubs against my ankle. I squat beside her and scratch between her ears. "If only you knew what an idiot I was," I say. "You wouldn't like me so much then." She just starts purring. "What I wouldn't give to be as clueless as you, my friend . . ."

I head back upstairs, taking a bottle of liquor with me. I sit on my big leather armchair with it and pick up the nearest book. Philosophy book. And guess what page it's open to? A page of advice on women. If only my life were this simple. If only my problems could be solved by a few hundred words written by a man that lived a few hundred years ago, who probably slept with a few hundred less women than I have.

A few hundred. What an annoying number.

Annie rolls over in her sleep, accidentally hitting a blob of orange tabby fur with her arm. Barnabas. I call out his name, and he runs over. It's nice knowing that at least two living, breathing organisms will only be disappointed in me if I don't feed them. Even if they _are_ cats.

When I get tired, I get into bed. But I know that I won't sleep tonight. Maybe not ever.

It took me ages to figure things out with Annie – how loudly to speak, how tightly to hold her. I had to learn how to bring her back when she checks out. I had to learn so much. I didn't mind. I liked learning how to treat her because it meant spending more time with her. Because I love her. And she loves me.

And I threw that love right out the window when I slept with Johanna of my own free will.

"Are you okay?" asks Annie.

"I thought you were asleep," I say.

"I was." Annie opens her eyes and looks up at the ceiling. "I can tell when something's wrong with you, Finnick. You're a lot more obvious than you think."

I swallow. I don't know what to say.

"You can tell me. I promise, I'd never tell anyone."

"I know," I whisper.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong" – she turns to me – "wouldn't you?"

The cats start pawing at me, trying to force a response out of me. They want to know, too.

I lie through my teeth. "Of course I would."


	20. Heartbreaker

**The moment you've all been waiting for – when Annie finds out about Finnick and Johanna!**

**Heartbreaker**

(ANNIE)

Finnick's bed seems a lot bigger when you're alone in it. Finnick came into bed last night. But I don't think he slept. I kept waking up. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't. I have no idea why he was having so much trouble getting to sleep.

Right now, there is one cat uncomfortably close to my face and another staring at me from the foot of the bed. I can smell breakfast cooking downstairs.

I sit up and stretch. There's a new safety bracelet on Finnick's pillow. I slip it on my wrist, change into some fresh clothes, and go downstairs.

Today, I will confront Finnick. I'm one hundred percent positive he's keeping secrets from me. And I'm going to attempt to find out what they are.

Finnick smiles at me as I come into the kitchen. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than you," I say. "Did you sleep at _all_?"

He smiles. "Of course I did."

"Liar," I mutter. I wander into the parlor, which is also the living room.

Finnick follows me in. "What was that?" His tone isn't particularly hostile, but it's not calm either.

I walk in between the two couches. "You can't lie to me. Not well, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His tone is getting defensive. And there's something building in his green eyes. It's a look I've never seen.

"You're keeping something from me. Don't try to deny it. Broadsea told me about your club."

"What _club_?" Finnick hisses.

"You know _exactly_ what club," I spit back. "The anti-Capitol one."

Finnick could literally have steam coming out of his ears. That's how angry he looks. "Broadsea said this?" I nod. "I'm going to kill him," Finnick says under his breath. He looks like he's actually about to make for the front door.

I put my hands on his chest and block his path. "Wait!"

"I don't know why you waste your time with that disgusting, useless son of a bitch. One of these days, he'll rip you to shreds and _I'll_ be the one that has to clean up after him." Finnick sounds so sure of this.

"Shut up. He's only an ass to you because you killed that Xandria girl!"

"She had it coming! If I didn't get her, she'd have killed me. And I like being alive." Finnick is seething. "What do you want from me? Huh? What do you want?"

"I just want the truth."

"The truth about _what_?"

"Something! Anything! You, Mags, Broadsea, even Britton – you're all in on some big secret and I'm the only one that doesn't know!"

Finnick shuts his eyes and starts to rub his temples like I've given him a headache. "There's a _reason_ you don't know, Annie. Do you think I just like being secretive?"

_Actually_, _yes_, I think.

My temper gets the best of me. "You had _brothers_, Finnick!" I blurt out. "What was the reason for not telling me about _that_?"

All emotion drops out of his face. Every last bit of it. "Who told you about them?"

"What does it matter? What matters is, I know." I take a step closer to him, but he just steps away. "Do you feel guilty or something? Finnick, tell me. Please." I wait for him to say something. But at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if he just walked out of the room.

"You want truth?" There's a funny look on Finnick's face. I've only ever seen it on television – in the Hunger Games. Just before he was about to kill someone. I nod stupidly. "_I had sex with Johanna_!" he hisses. He makes every word its own sentence. He steps closer to me, almost cornering me. "I did it without being paid or manipulated or threatened or forced! I did it because I _wanted_ to!" He leans back. "How's _that_ for truth?"

I can't speak.

It feels like Finnick's just reached into my ribcage and ripped out my heart with his bare hands. I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't think.

All I can do is turn around. Go to the front door. Walk out. Don't even bother to close it behind me. Walking across the courtyard. Slowly increasing pace.

"Hey, Annie," says Dodge. He's sitting on the porch of the house he now shares with Wrather. "Hoss? You okay?"

_No, Dodge, I am not okay_, I think. But if I open my mouth to say anything, I know I'll start crying.

I start running across the lawn and into my house. Up the stairs. Into my room. Slam the door behind me. Picture of Finnick on my nightstand. He's smiling in it. I pick it up and throw it across the room. The glass in the frame cracks when it hits the wall.

There's movement in the other room. Must've woken Britton.

It starts to sink in. I knew that Finnick was sleeping with other people. And I assumed he didn't want to do it.

I assumed wrong.

I've seen Johanna Mason. I knew that she and Finnick were close. And she's beautiful and she's confident and she's violent and she's everything I'm not. Finnick and I have never _gone there. _And I thought that was okay with him. But apparently it's not when he turns around and sleeps with his best friend.

Finnick's picture is on the floor, covered in all that broken glass. It's still smiling.

I need to talk to someone. Can't be Mags. Can't be Britton. Cal would just say _I told you so_. I turn around and see another picture staring at me from the nightstand, previously blocked by Finnick's. Broadsea's picture.

Broadsea. He'd be a good person to talk to.

Dial his number. Tell him I need to talk. He shows up within the minute.

Good old Broadsea.


	21. Interrogation

**I have once again contracted writer's block. I'm hoping you guys like this chapter, but I won't blame you if you don't. Also, I've finished writing this story. It'll be about 27 chapters in the end. The next one will be called Falling, and it'll be completely from Finnick's POV.**

**Interrogation**

(FINNICK)

Yesterday, Annie and I got in a fight. Being the complete and utter moron that I am, I told her about sleeping with Johanna. Of course, I didn't say a thing about Johanna getting drunk and professing her love for me. (I'm not _that_ stupid, am I?)

Broadsea's waiting for me on the porch, puffing away at a cigarette. He drops it on the porch and stomps it out when he sees me. Then we head across the bridge to Mainland without saying a word to each other.

When we get there, we go straight to Lysander's shop.

See, we're hunting for information. Snow knew I had the poison and since Lysander's the one that gave it to me, we figure he's the best place to start. It's supposed to be a peaceful get-together, but I've brought a length of rope with me just to be safe.

Why am I bringing Broadsea? As much as we hate each other, we've become partners in crime. We tend to share common goals, and we're both okay with intense violence. And as long as he doesn't talk too much, he's not terrible company.

Lysander opens the door a few moments after Broadsea knocks. He takes one good look at us before trying to slam the door on us. It's pathetic how easily Broadsea pushes it open. Lysander falls back onto the floor. He tries to crawl away but Broadsea kicks him in the head and knocks him out.

While Lysander's unconscious, we tie him to a rickety chair.

Broadsea and I light cigarettes while we wait for Lysander to regain consciousness. "You made Annie cry yesterday," Broadsea says in a conversational tone. "Mind if I ask why?"

"Yes," I say. "I do." Just then, Lysander groans and begins to stir. "Well, well. Look who's finally awake."

Lysander struggles against the rope. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Broadsea says. "Finnick here tied those himself. You're not getting out until we _let_ you out."

"And we will do that as soon as you tell us what we want to know." I stand up and cross the room to Lysander, holding the cigarette in the corner of my mouth. "Did Snow tell you to give me the poison?"

Lysander doesn't say anything, so Broadsea swats his fish tank off the counter. It shatters on the ground, scattering the fish and pebbles across the floor. He reaches down and picks up a big shard of glass. "Answer him or I swear I'll stick this in your eye."

Lysander's face doesn't change, but he says "Yes. He told me to give it to you. The antidote, too. Before you went on the Victory Tour."

"Why?" I ask.

Lysander shrugs.

"These look expensive . . ." Broadsea grabs one of the big shelves by the door and tosses it to the ground. The vials on it shatter. "I could do this all day. Believe me, I've got time to spare."

"If I knew why, I'd tell you," mumbles Lysander.

"You're starting to piss me off." I grab a tiny piece of glass from the ground and shove it under his middle fingernail.

Lysander gasps. "He said he could use you!"

"You're weak," Broadsea says. "Can't even take a little pain, can you?" He takes a long drag on his cigarette. He uses the inner curve of Lysander's elbow like and ash tray and shoves the smoldering end into Lysander's skin.

He screams at the burn.

"Was that really necessary?" I snap at Broadsea.

Broadsea shrugs. "Is anything truly necessary?"

"Stop trying to be philosophical," I say. "You just make your own stupidity more pronounced." I turn back to Lysander. "I'm sure he said something else."

"I needed the money!" Lysander shouts. "He didn't _have_ to say anything else!"

"Are you sure?" I ask. Lysander nods. "Absolutely positive?" Nods again. "Seriously?" One more nod.

"Then I think his usefulness has run its course," Broadsea says quietly.

"Are you going to kill me?" asks Lysander.

Well, we can't let him go, can we? We set him loose and he'll run straight to the Peacekeepers. And if the Peacekeepers get involved, it's only a matter of time before Snow gets wind of this.

"You kill him; I'll take care of the body?" Broadsea suggests.

"Finnick!" Lysander shouts. "Don't do this! Come on! Don't you have a heart?"

I bend down slightly so that I'm at eye level with him. "No." I grab him by the chin with one hand and on the back of the head with the other and snap his neck.

When I turn back to Broadsea, he sucker punches me. I stumble. I have to grab the side of Lysander's chair to keep on my feet. "What the hell was that for?" I demand, rubbing my jaw.

"For Annie, you dick," he replies calmly. "We're friends, remember? You honestly thought she wouldn't tell me?"

"She didn't tell you why," I say. "So you two can't be that close."

I walk out the door and don't turn around until I'm halfway across the bridge to Victor's Isle. Lysander's shop has gone up in flames.

I killed my friend. I snapped his neck like a twig. And I don't feel a goddamn thing.

Why? Why not? Have I lost all humanity? All feeling? All guilt?

Honestly, I don't remember how many people I've killed. How many women I've slept with. How many lies I've told. How many lives I've ruined.

And watching flames rise from Lysander's shop, it doesn't seem to matter. Nothing does.


	22. Fire

**I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T POSTED! My stupid computer thought it would be fun to crash. I don't know why, but all technology loathes me. But I digress. Enjoy and sorry again!**

**Fire**

(ANNIE)

"Does it get better?" Doge asks.

"Does what get better?"

He shrugs. "Everything."

I nod. "Yes. It just takes time." I reach out and put my hand on his new metal one. "How's the hand?"

He flexes his fingers. "Weird. When somebody touches it, I can feel the warmth. I can tell if something is soft or rough. But I accidentally stuck in a fire the other day. It didn't hurt. It was just real hot. It ain't normal, hoss." He swallows hard. His eyes are shiny as he examines the artificial hand, like he's going to cry.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into an embrace. It was bad enough going through this myself but Dodge – happy, carefree, immature, grammatically incorrect Dodge . . . It's not fair. I figured he'd be going in one day, but I never thought it would affect him like this. Then again, no one thought I'd go mad.

"Look on the bright side. At least _you_ can talk," I say. "And your granddad went through the same thing. And so did I. You've got people who get it." He gives me a halfhearted smile. I smile back and sigh. "I gotta go. Britton's on Mainland so I have to make my own dinner and try not to blow up the house in the process. I'll see you tomorrow." I stand up grab my bag.

"See you," he says.

I cross the courtyard between houses slowly, soaking up the sun. I'm in no hurry to get home. I head up the porch steps and make it all the way to the front door before I realize Finnick's there. I gasp. "Oh! You scared me."

He stands up and walks towards me without saying anything. There's a red mark on the left side of his jaw like he's been punched.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" I reach up to touch it, see how bad it is. But then I remember that I hate him. I lower my hands and allow them to return to the doorknob, trying to open it.

"Wait!" Finnick says. He puts his hand on the doorframe and leans, completely blocking the doorway with his body. "Just hear me out for a minute!"

"Please leave me alone," I whimper. "I get it. I get that there are things you can't tell me. I get that it's for my own good. Believe me, Finnick, I get it. I had this talk with Broadsea last night and I get it. Just leave me alone." I try to push past him, but he won't budge, so I turn and make my way down the porch steps. But Finnick follows me. "Leave me alone!" I say again.

Then I catch sight of the flames. The orange contrasts against the deep blue of the sky. It's a huge blaze, higher than even the Justice Building. There are shouts. People trying to put it out. I can see four horses galloping across the bridge, headed straight this way. They're coming so fast I don't have time to react. Thankfully, Finnick pulls me out of their way just before they trample me.

I cling to him for a second because I'm too shaken up to move (at least, I _think_ that's why I do it). He doesn't even seem to notice. His arms are wrapped around my waist as he scowls in the fire's direction. "You've got to be kidding me," he says to himself. He drags me a few houses down to the one at the very edge of the semicircle. He bangs the door once with the side of his fist and waits. His nostrils are flared in anger and his jaw is clenched.

The door swings open and Broadsea's standing there in a wife-beater with a tumbler in his hand. Finnick narrows his eyes. "You are a horrible arsonist." He points to the blaze.

Broadsea sees it and curses loudly. "I didn't do that."

"Didn't do what?" I ask.

"Apparently, you did!" Finnick insists. "You set the shop on fire and obviously, it caught."

"You set a shop on fire?" I ask.

"I didn't set a damn thing on fire," says Broadsea. "I tied up the you-know-what and set it floating in the ocean."

"What did you tie up?" I'm so confused.

"Mainland is burning down," says Finnick. "Obviously, someone set it on fire. Right now, you're my chief suspect."

I grab Broadsea's tumbler and toss it against the ground. It shatters loudly. The two of them look at me angrily. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on!" I shout.

"No," they say in unison. They say it in such bored, annoyed voices.

I turn to go and Broadsea says, "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Mainland," I say. "I'm going to try and help."

"No you're not," says Finnick. The two of them pull me into Broadsea's house.

I remember that Britton is there. "But what about Britton?" I ask. Then it really hits me. "Britton! He was supposed to go see Io! We can't just leave him there!"

"Oh yes we can," says Broadsea.

I turn to Finnick. He shakes his head before I can say a word. I push past him, go straight out the front door, and start walking across the porch. Finnick is right in front of me now. "Finnick, let me go." He shakes his head and wraps his hands around my upper arms to keep me in place. "Finnick, let go of me." He's really pissing me off. He won't move, so I shove him. Still won't move. "Finnick, let go of me!" I shout again. I start pounding my fists against his chest but he stays still. Like he can't even feel it. "Let go of me!" I beg. "Please."

"Are you done?" he asks. He removes his hands and holds them up, almost in surrender. I can't believe him. My hand snaps forward to smack him, but he catches me by the wrist as easily and effortlessly as blinking. I try to tear my hand away, but he uses it to pull me closer. "Don't _ever_ do that again," he growls, making each word a sentence.

After a moment, he releases my hand and indicates the front door with his head. With nowhere else to go, I turn in the direction he tells me. Broadsea moves slightly to let me past. He's staring at Finnick. Half-shocked, half-pissed.

It's going to be a long night.


	23. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

(FINNICK)

Annie sits on Broadsea's couch, hugging her knees to her chest. She seems okay, but I can tell she's getting worse with every passing minute. Britton hasn't come back yet. He hasn't made contact. And now it's taking its toll on Annie.

She won't speak to me. Broadsea tries to coax a few words out of her every now and then, but she just answers him with dirty looks.

I feel guilty about not letting her go, I really do. But if she goes to Mainland, there might be people trapped in the fire. Those people might be screaming. And those screams would definitely make Annie relapse. And if she relapses in the middle of a burning building, the outcome wouldn't be good for anyone.

There aren't really any words to describe how I felt when Annie tried to hit me. "Angry" is a good one. But I wasn't mad at _her_. "Disappointed" is all right, too. I just can't believe she tried to hurt me when I was only trying to help her.

It's strange to be so close to her and not speak. Not touch. Nothing. All I can do is stand here and watch her rocking back and forth as the not-knowing consumes her.

"Do you have anything to eat?" I ask Broadsea. I'm not hungry; I just can't stand the silence.

"Check in the kitchen," he says. He puts his hand on Annie's shoulder and pats her back. I don't know why, but I don't like it. Something about the two of them together, so close. It makes me uncomfortable. Jealous, even.

Wait, why am I jealous? I'm not allowed to be jealous. Besides, there's nothing going on between them. Annie wouldn't do that to me. But then I remember that she hates me. And we're not together. And technically, she wouldn't be doing _anything_ to me.

Instead of getting something to eat, I fill a cup with ice water and go back into the living room. "Drink," I say to Annie. She doesn't look me in the eye as she takes the cup.

I've been in Broadsea's house before, but each time it changes. He owns the weirdest things. You look around and see wineglasses full of seashells, thin tin boxes of colored pencils, half-burned pieces of paper with doodles on them, and an array of liquor Haymitch Abernathy only _dreams_ about. And that's just downstairs. His bedroom's so cluttered you can't even see the floor.

There's a knock. I get it. Britton – face smudged with ash – shoves me aside and shouts for his sister. They run straight for each other.

Annie starts asking questions, all of which Britton answers.

"I'm fine," he says. "I was stuck in Io's place, but she and I got out. She'll be fine." Annie hands him her cup of water, which he downs at once. "The schoolhouse is gone," he continues. "So is the apothecary and three quarters of the stables. But the rest of Mainland is okay."

"Anybody dead?" asks Broadsea.

"Lysander's missing." Britton shoots me a look. "And, um . . ." he trails off. He internally debates something for a few seconds before saying, "Cal's . . . gone."

"Cal?" Broadsea asks. He holds his hand up to the level of her height. "The blond kid, right?"

I whack him in the back of the head. He turns to me. I point at Annie. "Her best friend," I whisper. I swat him on the chest for good measure.

Annie seems to be frozen. It's almost like she didn't hear; her expression is exactly the same as it was before. She's not even crying. I want to go to her, give her a hug, tell her it's going to be okay, but I know she wouldn't let me if I did.

She's not moving. She's barely breathing. Britton eventually takes her out of the house, probably to go see Io. Broadsea and I follow them out to the porch. We don't say anything; we have no idea what _to_ say. It's probably better we don't talk anyway, seeing how Broadsea and I aren't the most caring

Once they're out of earshot, I turn to Broadsea. "How stupid can you be? Our girlfriend just lost –"

Broadsea cocks an eyebrow. "_Our_ _girlfriend_?"

"You know what I mean," I say. "And I'm already trapped in a love triangle. Let's not make it a rhombus."

"What do you mean 'love triangle?'" he demands.

"Johanna stuff," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly." But I know I'll have to tell him eventually. I sigh. "I slept with her, Annie and I got in a fight, I told her, now she's pissed at me."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a moron?"

I pat his cheek forcefully. "Only you, my friend."

He grabs my wrist and throws my hand down. "Seriously? You wait until you're in the middle of a fight to tell Annie you banged Johanna?" he seethes. "I stuck up for you! She came crying to _me_ and _I_ told her that you were just trying to help her! _I stuck up for you_!"

"Stop screaming, you drama queen," I sneer. "You think I don't feel guilty?" He clenches his jaw and glares at me. I take a deep breath to try and calm down. "Now be honest with me for once in your miserable little life: Did you start that fire or not?"

"No!" he shouts. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you lie, Broadsea! That's what you do! You're an annoying, self-obsessed _liar_!"

"_I'm_ the liar?" He rips through two octaves. "I'm not the one keeping life-or-death secrets from the girl I supposedly love!"

"Because I have an interest in keeping her alive!" I retort.

Broadsea snorts, smirking. "Right. Because you've not only dug your own grave, you've gone and dug hers, too."

I think to myself, _At least she's not so unhappy with me she goes and gets herself killed like Xandria did_. I would never say that out loud, though. No. Instead, I smile like I know something he doesn't. And walk away.

But it's true. We're both screwed.

And she hates me now. Which just makes the whole damn situation _so_ much better, doesn't it?


	24. Peacekeepers

**Filler, not great. Sorry!**

**Peacekeepers**

(ANNIE)

Our new Head Peacekeeper has called a meeting in the Justice Building for all citizens fifteen and over. He and a few new Peacekeepers arrived on a train the day of the fire last week.

I haven't spoken much since I found out about Calliope, and definitely not to Finnick or Broadsea. And I can't even look at Io because she resembles Cal so much.

The real problem: Everyone keeps dying on me. Mamma, Daddy, Asper, Tachs, Lowtide, Cal – the list goes on and on. And none of them died quickly. Mamma died having me and Britton, Daddy drowned, Tachs was shot with a bow and arrow, Lowtide overdosed, Cal burned to death, and I can't even talk about Asper.

Is it something to do with me? Am I so unlucky that absolutely everyone I know is bound to die painfully? Did I do something to deserve this?

I sit at the very back of the meeting room in the Justice Building. District 4 is actually pretty small, but the meeting room is barely big enough to fit all residents fifteen and up. Some people have to stand. I'm sitting next to Dodge. He's the only live human being I can stand being around at the moment.

Two big, bulky Peacekeepers call everyone to order. So we fall silent. A man with neatly combed brown hair and a pale, rectangular face walks into the center of the stage. He doesn't look particularly threatening like our last Peacekeeper did. No, this guy is medium build and average height.

He stands with one hand on his hip. The other he uses to make gestures. "My name," he begins in a clear, even voice, "is Lazarus Belisarius." He pauses as if he's just told us a difficult piece of information we need time to absorb. "I am your new Head Peacekeeper. Now, I know all about your district's problems with authority. But I am going to tell you here and now that I am not your enemy unless you wish us to be."

Another pause.

"Last week, your district lost three citizens in a terrible fire," he continues. "A man called Lysander was declared missing. But I thought I might inform you that his body washed up on the beach in front of my home late last night."

"What do you mean?" someone asks.

"Lysander is dead," he says. He looks straight at Finnick and Broadsea who're standing in the corner. "It seems he caught fire along with his shop and ran into the ocean to try and put it out."

The meeting is dismissed. Dodge and I are standing in front of the Justice Building when Finnick walks over to us. He's got his sympathetic-and-concerned face on: eyebrows pulled together, head tilted down, and eyes a very soft green.

"I know you hate me right now," he says. "But if you need anything – anything at all – I'm always going to be here for you." He pulls a blue and white safety bracelet from his pocket. He sets it in my palm and gently closes my fist around it.

I hate him. I hate him for being so sweet when I'm mad at him. I hate him for making me miss him. I hate him for making me feel guilty for dumping him. I hate him for always trying to take care of me. I hate him for making me feel safe. I just hate _him_.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not too broken up over his sleeping with Johanna. He seems like he's actually sorry about it. But . . . I thought I was enough for him. We've never _gone there_, so to speak. And I thought that was all right with him. But apparently it wasn't.

Finnick reluctantly drops my hands and backs away.

"What'd he give you?" asks Doge. I hold out my hand and let him look at the bracelet. "Damn. That's cool." He hands it back to me and I put it on.

We turn our heads to the sound of horses. There are three of them – Belisarius and two of his men. I don't recognize either of them. They cut right in front of us, blocking our way so we can't really move. I shrink away slightly, but Dodge doesn't seem bothered.

Belisarius smiles down from his horse. "Dodge Marsall," he says to Dodge. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marsall." He turns to me and looks me up and down. "And you must be Annie Cresta." I nod. "Well, it's lovely meeting you too, Annie."

How come Dodge is Mr. Marsall and I'm just Annie? Not that I care, I'm just curious.

"I look forward to getting to know you both in the future." Belisarius kicks his horse. He and his two goons trot over to one of the bridges.

"What a piece a-work," says Dodge. "Too polite. I bet you he'll be one of them nut-jobs. Granddad was telling me 'bout an old Head Peacekeeper. He went crazy. I mean absolutely mental."

We start walking towards the bridge as Dodge keeps chattering.

I wish I had an outlet. Broadsea taught me how to make firebombs that one time, but I'm not really in the mood for it. Dodge has talking. Lowtide had drugs. Broadsea's got alcohol. I don't even know what Finnick has, but he must have something to have survived this long.

"Too polite," Dodge says again, pulling me back to the real world. "I don't like him."

When we reach Victor's Isle, I go to the beach and stick my feet in the water. I think about trying to speak, but what's the point?

I just end up crying. I haven't cried in ages – not even when I heard Cal was dead. I cry too often anyway, but sometimes you just have to.

I don't realize how loudly I'm sobbing until I hear the crunch of sand as someone walks over to me. I'm almost surprised that it's Broadsea.

He shushes me and wraps his arms around me and tells me everything's going to be okay. And I don't believe him. Not for one second.

So I shut my eyes and wish that Finnick had found me.


	25. Trustworthy

**FanFiction is freaking out on me! I have no idea what it's doing. That's just a warning**

**Trustworthy**

(FINNICK)

The look in Annie's eyes dominates my mind. I don't think I've ever seen such sadness in her eyes. Never. If I weren't such a useless, miserable moron, I could've comforted her.

I miss her _so_ _much_. Words can't even describe how much it hurts – not just emotionally, but physically. My heart actually gets sore when I see her. I'm honestly considering groveling and begging on my knees to get her to forgive me.

Wow. I am really desperate, aren't I?

As I get closer to my house, I realize that I see three horses tied to the porch. Two men are on that porch. Their white uniforms catch my eye. Peacekeepers.

"You got a visitor," one of them says as I near the front door.

"And you _got_ terrible grammar," I snap back. "Get the hell off my property." Usually, no one is this rude to Peacekeepers. But I know that they won't do a damn thing to me, so I just speak to them how I want to. All victors from 4 do.

I go inside. Our new Head Peacekeeper is seated on one of the couches in the parlor, scratching Barnabas at the base of his tail. "Mr. Odair," he says. "I'm sorry for barging in on you like this. But you did leave the door unlocked." Barnabas jumps off of his lap and starts rubbing his head against my ankle. "Why is that, may I ask?"

"Most people aren't dumb enough to break into a victor's house," I say. I pour two glasses of bourbon, hand him one, and sit on the couch across from him.

He smiles. "They did warn me you weren't fond of authority figures." He sniffs the bourbon and puts it down on the coffee table. "Do you know why I'm here?"

I take a swig of my drink. "Enlighten me."

"Lysander was murdered," he says. "And I think you know who did it."

"And what gave you that impression?"

"He followed President Snow's orders. Because of that, you thought he might have more information. Possibly about the cameras."

I look him over for a moment. There's nothing threatening about him. He's fairly small. Not threatening whatsoever. And the way he talks sounds forced. His accent is closest to District 2's, but it doesn't quite fit. His words are too distinct, if that makes sense. He enunciates too much.

"You could have asked, you know," he says. "The president simply wanted to keep a closer eye on you and your friends – particularly Annie. He meant no harm by it." He leans forward. "I am a trustworthy man, Mr. Odair. I do not lie. You should make a point of remembering that."

"Why are you here?" I ask. "Seriously."

He smiles again. His teeth are _very_ white. You can tell from those white teeth, pressed clothes, and meticulously combed brown hair that he is big on personal hygiene. "I am here because your last Head Peacekeeper lacked the ability to maintain order. Especially among victors." He stands and begins strolling around my living room. I stand, too, if only to keep an eye on him. "And I thought I might get to know some of the more _rebellious_ citizens of District Four."

_Rebellious_ citizens of District 4. _Rebellious_ citizens. _Rebellious_. Rebels.

I really do not like this guy.

"Get out of my house," I say.

He ignores my request. "I would like for us to trust one another. As I said, I am a trustworthy person. A man of my word." He opens his arms. "I carry no weapons on my person."

Why the hell would he tell me that?

"How'd you get promoted to Head Peacekeeper?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I do not hesitate," he answers. "If someone has broken the law, I am _glad_ to punish them. If I feel someone has wronged me, well . . ." he trails off and steps closer to me. "I am giving you a clean slate. Anything wrong you have done in the past does not matter."

I lean against the wall by the fireplace and cock an eyebrow. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you don't trust me." Belisarius sighs. "We will have to work on that. Ask me anything. I will give you an honest answer."

I inhale sharply. "Do you know who set that fire?"

"Yes. I did." He heads outside and I follow him. I watch as he and his two lackeys mount their horses. Before they ride off, I see him glancing towards the beach. "And here comes little Annie."

In that second, I forget all about Belisarius and what he's done.

I turn my head and sure enough, Broadsea is headed this way. He's carrying Annie. I'm next to him before I even realize I'm moving. "She okay?" I ask. "What happened?"

His answer is simple. "She finally started crying."

She's asleep – actually _asleep_. Her head rests at the base of Broadsea's neck. She's breathing through her mouth, which is open slightly. And her arms are wrapped around his neck.

I follow them into Annie's house. Britton's not home; he's with Io. He's had it rough this past week. He's got to take care of his sister and his girlfriend, while still mourning Calliope's loss himself. But it seems like Annie's falling through the cracks.

We take her upstairs. I pull back the covers and Broadsea puts her in the bed. Then I tuck her in. Broadsea and I look at each other for a second to see who'll leave first. Neither of us does. So we each grab a chair and sit by Annie's bed.

"What'd Belisarius want?" asks Broadsea.

"He wants us to trust him," I say.

"Effing weird," Broadsea says. But he doesn't say _effing_, if you know what I mean. "What else did he say?"

"He doesn't carry a gun," I say. "But that just seems stupid to me."

Broadsea nods. "Anything else?"

"He knows we killed Lysander. And he knows about the cameras. And . . ."

"And what?" he prompts.

"_He_ set the fire."

"Then I guess you owe me an apology."

I just give him a look. We both know he's not going to get one.

We're silent for a moment before Broadsea asks, "Do you think he knows about the resistance?"

"I think he knows a lot of things." I inhale sharply. "And he's go this weird obsession with horses." Broadsea grunts in agreement. "So tell me – do you actually care about Annie, or do you just want to piss me off?"

Broadsea frowns. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."


	26. The Law

**Third-to-last chapter! The next story will be called Resistance: Falling. It'll be _Catching Fire_, told completely from Finnick's point of view. I will remind you about it often.**

**The Law**

(ANNIE)

The last thing I remember is Broadsea finding me on the beach. That's all. So imagine my surprise when I wake up – in my room – to find both Finnick and Broadsea asleep on chairs by my bed.

If Britton saw this, he'd have an aneurism.

I throw off the sheets, climb out of bed, and tiptoe out of the room. I immediately peek in Britton's room. He's not there.

Britton is good. He's sort of a fatherly figure – well, more motherly, but that's beside the point. After Dad died, he took it upon himself to take care of us both. At a certain point, we were so hungry we had to steal bread. Britton got caught. I didn't. He was whipped. That's how he got the scars on his back.

I know I'm a burden, and I feel guilty about that. But for the past few days, Britton has had to juggle both me and Io. I don't think he means to, but he spends more time with her than me. I don't mind it. She needs him right now. But I do miss him.

Once downstairs, I start making some coffee. When it's almost done, I hear the stairs creaking, a yawn, and a loud cry of "Coffee!"

Finnick.

I forget that I'm supposed to be mad at him and smile. But that smile's gone very soon. I pour us each a cup and give all the sugar in the house to Finnick. He smiles at me and dumps about half of it into his cup. I keep mine black.

"I will never understand how you drink that," he says. In response, I take another sip. "Annie, I –"

There are shouts outside. Two Peacekeepers are in the courtyard between the houses. This is strange because usually, Peacekeepers stay away from both Sandstorm and Victor's Isle. Finnick and I go onto the porch to see what's happening. The other victors are already standing on theirs.

"Mainland!" one of the Peacekeepers shouts. "NOW!"

"A reason would be nice," Finnick says.

Broadsea appears behind us. "Or a verb."

"Everyone is supposed to come," the second Peacekeeper says. He looks right into my eyes. "No exceptions."

[LATER]

All of District 4 is gathered in the town square, facing the Justice Building. Finnick and Broadsea stand on either side of me. Finnick won't leave me alone because he wants to talk to me, and Broadsea won't buzz off because he doesn't want to leave me alone with Finnick. And that leaves me with an angry ass of a victor on each arm.

There's a platform in front of the Justice Building. The mayor stands on it with a handful of Peacekeepers, including Belisarius. Only something is wrong. The mayor's hands are bound in front of him. They're shaking.

"I am very disappointed," Belisarius says. "Eight days. I am here eight days and already, this happens."

_What happens_? I wonder.

Belisarius holds open his hand for something. One of the other Peacekeeper puts that something in his palm. Belisarius holds it up for us to see. A pistol. "Can anyone tell me what this is?" he asks the crowd. He waves it around a bit.

"A tiny-ass gun?" someone offers.

"Exactly!" says Belisarius. "An illegal firearm kept in the home of none other than your mayor, Oceanus Ardis!" He hands the gun back to a Peacekeeper. "This crime is punishable by death." He allows that to sink in for a moment.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no.

He _wouldn't_. Not in public. Not in front of all these people!

Belisarius makes a gesture and Mayor Ardis is brought forward. They force him onto his knees. "No one," says Belisarius, "not even your mayor is above the law." That same Peacekeeper gives him back the mayor's pistol. Belisarius takes his sweet time loading it.

"Don't watch," Finnick murmurs.

I'm more than happy to comply. I shut my eyes and turn around. Pretend I'm anywhere but here. I cover my ears, but that doesn't block the sound of the gunshot or the crowd's collective gasp.

"It's okay," Finnick whispers. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

When I get home, Britton is there. He just hugs me. That's it.

I don't even think about it. My mouth just forms the words and sets them free. "I needed that."

"Me too," Britton says.

"That was awful today," I say quietly. We sit down on the couch.

"I don't get it," Britton says. "While you were gone last summer, I worked as the mayor's runner." Runner, meaning he carried messages all around the district for him.

"I remember," I say.

"It came up in conversation, and . . ."

"And what?" I prompt.

"And I specifically asked him if he had a gun."

"Uh-huh?"

"And he said he hated them. Said they were obnoxious, noisy things that were more trouble than they were worth."

"I don't understand."

"That couldn't have been his gun, Annie," Britton says in a quiet, urgent voice. "I think Belisarius set him up."


	27. Fallout

**I'm writing too much for my own good. It's actually sad. Second-to-last chapter! This is when Broadsea finally gets it all out there.**

**Fallout**

(ANNIE)

I knock on Broadsea's door feverishly. "Come on. Broadsea, open up! Please! It's Annie!"

It's another few seconds before he comes to the door. "Sweet Annie," he says. "What's up?" He moves aside so I can get in.

"Well, I was talking to Britton about what happened," I say. We walk over to the couch and sit. "He was a runner for Mayor Ardis last sum–" That's when Broadsea kisses me – well, it's not quite a kiss. He sort of crushes our mouths together, knotting his fingers in my hair. And it hurts. So I tear my face away. "What are you doing?"

"What I should've done a long time ago," he says. He tries to kiss me again, but I shove at him.

"Broadsea!" I say. "Broadsea, stop!" I manage to slip off the couch. "What's wrong with you?"

He's . . . mad. Really mad. "Are you serious?" He waits for me to respond, but I don't say anything. "Can't you guess?"

No. Because my guess is wrong. It has to be.

I shake my head vehemently. My scalp hurts from him tugging at my hair. "That hurt," I say, rubbing the sore spot behind my ear.

"_Love_ hurts."

What?

"Love?" I squeak.

"Love," he repeats, stepping towards me.

Oh, no.

"Broadsea, please don't." I swallow. "Don't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Please –"

"I'm in love with you, Annie."

I'm not surprised. I sort of saw this coming, but hoped it wouldn't happen. "You're drunk," I say quietly. I know he's not, but it's the best explanation I can come up with.

"I'm sober as a damn judge," he says. He starts walking towards me. Walks until I'm cornered against a wall – literally pressed right against it with nowhere to go.

"You're drunk," I say again. _Please, please, please be drunk, _I add mentally.

"No. I'm not." He's towering over me. "You _know_ I'm not."

"Please don't do this." I'm looking away from him and trying not to cry.

He grabs my chin and forces it up. He doesn't do it gently like Finnick would. "Are you kidding me?" I don't get what he means buy that, but I don't dare ask him to explain.

"I don't want . . ." I'm reluctant to say that _he's_ what I don't want.

"What don't you want?" Broadsea says. He sounds like a little kid who knows he's done something bad

I reach up and gently tug his hand off of my face. He doesn't make an effort to hold on. Then I just look up at him and hope that'll convey my answer.

"You're lying!" he says. "You're so full of it!"

"You're my friend! We're just _friends_!"

"I don't want to be _FRIENDS_!" he shouts.

"B-Broadsea, I do care about you," I say quietly. "But I want _Finnick_! I'm always gonna want _Finnick_!"

Finnick. Where is he when you need him?

With a single swoop of his arm, Broadsea sends the coffee table flying across the room. I gasp. "All I ever do is listen to you bitch and moan about Finnick! I'm sick of _him_ and I'm sick of _you_!"

I'm shaking. A lot. Broadsea's never been particularly frightening to me until this moment. Only now do I realize that he's three times bigger than me. His largest tattoo – a bleeding rose – is on his arm and it's _terrifying_. As are the barbed wire coils inked on his forearm. Everything about him is scary right now. Especially that scar on his face.

"Broadsea, you're scaring me," I say quietly.

"Good!" And then he starts shouting all sorts of things, most of which I don't get. He's saying how much he hates Finnick and how annoying and useless I am. And as he talks, he destroys his house. He shoves books off of their shelves and chucks glass across the room. At a certain point, he throws a decanter at the wall near my head. If it had landed just a few more feet to the left, it would have hit me.

Now I'm actually petrified.

"Go," he says. "Just get the hell out."

I know I should apologize or something, but I'm going to take this chance. I duck out the door and into the pouring rain. I'm soaked in seconds – which only makes the shaking worse. I race across the courtyard and into my own house, slamming the door shut behind me.

Britton's sitting cross-legged on the couch in a pair of sweatpants. "Where've you been?"

"With Broadsea," I say, locking the door. Then I march into the laundry room, dig out some fresh clothes, and change.

When I get back outside, Britton's standing in the kitchen. "Did he do something to you?"

"We got in a fight," I say quietly.

"And?"

"And nothing." I walk over to the refrigerator and start rummaging around for food.

"You terrible, terrible liar," he says.

I sigh. "What do you care?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he says, "Go upstairs" and nods towards the staircase.

"You're sending me to my room? Britton, I'm three minutes older than you."

He rolls his eyes. "Just go."

Eventually, I do go upstairs. I leave my bedroom door open, but it shuts after a second. I turn around.

Guess who's there?

Finnick, clean-shaven and pale, stands before me. He's dressed in a black button down shirt, jeans, and leather boots. The only thing that looks a bit off about him is his hair. It's messy, pointing away from his head in almost every direction. But other than that, he looks . . . fantastic.

Only one question comes to mind. "How did you get in here?"

"Britton let me in," he says.

Britton. Of course. Of. Course.

Finnick turns the lock on my door. "And no one is leaving this room until you forgive me."


	28. Apologize

**LAST CHAPTER! Thank you guys so much for everything! The next story is Resistance: Falling. It's all from Finnick's POV and it's the event during and leading up to _Catching Fire_. I promise it won't suck – and there will be fluff!**

**Apologize**

(FINNICK)

"Finnick, I can't do this tonight," Annie says.

"I've tried to apologize twice already," I say. "And I've been interrupted both times. It's now or never."

Annie sits back on her bed, arms crossed. Her hair is soaking wet and she's pouting. "Let's get this over with."

"Don't sound so excited," I mutter.

"I'm tired, Finnick," she says. "Just get on with it."

She sounds upset. I wonder why.

"I love you," I say. It seems to be a good place to start. "You know that, right?"

She nods, making her curls bounce. "I know."

I half-expected her to tell me she loves me back. But I shouldn't be disappointed she didn't.

My next step is to come clean about the few things I can. "Yes, I had brothers. Two of them. They died along with my mother, and now my stepdad won't talk to me. And when we do have contact, it always ends in some sort of physical injury for one of us."

Annie starts gnawing on her lower lip.

I take her desk chair and move it so that I'm sitting directly across from her. "I've done things that I'm not proud of."

I know that's not a sufficient explanation. I'll have to open up. I'll have to talk about my feelings. And I hate my feelings.

How do I explain this, though? How do I explain that I'm numb – that I don't care about anything or anyone except for her and Mags? I had to become detached to survive. I had to shut out any and all emotions just to be able to get out of bed in the morning.

"I had to make myself . . . dead," I say, and realize that it sounded a lot better in my head than it did coming out of my mouth. Annie doesn't seem to get it. "Dead _inside_, I mean. I had to stop feeling. Otherwise, I would never have made it out of the arena."

Annie flinches at the word _arena_, but I only stop talking for a second.

"I managed to keep it out of my mind when I got home, but only until the, uh, selling began. And I had to start dying inside again. Am I making any sense?"

She nods solemnly.

"I was depressed," I continue. "I had no control over my own life. I couldn't even bring a tribute home. Not until . . ."

"Me," Annie finishes. She looks at me for a split second before her eyes dart down again.

"Exactly. And like I said, I love you. I love you so much it's like pain. That's why I wouldn't let you go to Mainland during the fire. I can't lose you." I sound like an idiot.

Annie is studying her hands. "Why did you sleep with her?"

Great question.

"You remember what I said about being dead?" I ask. She nods. "I don't feel as guilty as I should – about anything. And I wasn't thinking about what I was doing to you." I hold her hands in mine.

"But _why_ did you do it?"

"I don't have a good answer to that. I did it because I wanted to." In an attempt to catch her eye, I bend a bit so that my face is under Annie's. "But I don't _care_ about Johanna."

Annie's crying now. "Really?"

"Really."

And she launches herself into my arms. I hold her so tightly that I'm in danger of breaking her. But I don't care. She doesn't seem to, either.

"I love you, too," she whispers in my ear. "Just don't do that again."

"I won't," I say quickly. "I swear."

There's a small pause before she says, "Okay."

"And I promise I –"

Annie slaps her hand over my mouth. "Just kiss me."

"I can do that." But my voice is muffled and it comes out as gibberish.

Annie presses her lips against mine. We kiss for a little while before Annie comes up for air. As she pulls away to catch her breath, I kiss her cheek, jaw, and neck. "You need to stop being so . . ." she struggles for words. "You."

"Stop being so me?" I say. "I'll try my best, but it'll be hard. You may not have noticed, but I'm quite the catch."

She giggles. "I love you. I can't say it enough."

"I don't mind. I like hearing it." I just look at her for a second. "I really am sorry."

She runs her fingers through my hair. "I know." But she doesn't say that she forgives me.

"I'm never going to hurt you again. I promise."

Annie swallows. "Finnick, don't make promises you can't keep," she whispers.

She's right. But at least for now, I can pretend she's wrong. I can pretend that things will be fine. Pretend that we have a chance at a real future together. Pretend I can keep us safe from the rest of the country. Pretend that we'll both be safe in this fantasy world. But sooner or later, something will bring me back to reality.

And I can only hope that we'll both survive it.

**Yeah, that's it for this story. I really hoped you like it. I had a lot of trouble with the ending so even if you hate it just pretend you don't for my sake. Thank you guys so much for everything!**


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